The Courier that changed the game
by Wasteland Courier
Summary: "Good intentions paint the way with bad deeds. So excuse me if I sound like a prick here, but I'm indifferent with killing you or not. I don't enjoy it, it's a last resort for me. But my business is something that I made from scratch and I'll be damned if you decide to screw it up. This world is new to me, and you can bet your shiny ass that I'm changing a few things here."
1. The Courier Walks Slowly

Author: This story will have 2 mods on. Perk every level mod and More Perks mod. Because Fallout 4 had the right idea with the perk every level, and because more perks means more variety.

* * *

After the events of Hoover Dam, the Courier that was shot and left to die in a shallow grave in Goodsprings, made both NCR and the Legion packing out of the Mojave.

For the legion, it made Legate Lanius turn around his tail with the power of his words and logic, by seeing the viewpoint of the Courier he begrudgingly left after seeing reason.

The NCR was kicked out due to their leaders screwing around by the eyes of the Courier, lack of manpower, lack of resources... the list would be presented to them, at all the things that they've done wrong in their movements. The legion at least provided security to the people that were under their territory, though their morals were too cruel. But what took the cake for the Courier was how General Oliver wanted to take the credit for the victory, despite it being the sweat, blood and effort of the Courier.

In a calm demeanor, the Courier ordered Yes Man to throw Oliver over the Dam, not out of spite of his lack of sight, but to a message to the whole NCR. The Mojave, New Vegas, was not for their taking. It was his, no, for the people to take and he'd make what they failed to do, and that was to make a society without taxes or the threat of a legion squad to threaten them.

* * *

2 years later, Freeside

"What's the current situation on Freeside?" A man wearing riot gear spoke with his riot helmet on, he was no taller than maybe 5 feet and 11 inches. On his back was a duffel bag filled with supplies, from medical equipment to ammunition, to food and water to a change of clothes and different weapons that are relatively easy to carry. He had a few weapons on his person for both self protection and to give to make people think twice about pulling out a gun out. He was currently talking with the one that gives a semblance of order on the streets, The King himself.

"Not good at the moment, big guy. Food supplies are starting to dwindle. Water on the other hand seems fine for now, if we aren't rushed by, let's say, a couple dozen of people. Though I suppose those couple dozen of people could make food even more sparse than what we have now." He replied with the accent that the Kings usually use.

"Alright, I'll see about it while I'll take a look at the farms. I'll maybe see if I can scrounge up a hunting party for Big Horns as well." The man took out a notebook and scribbled down the orders to make. "What about trouble? Any raiders or remnant of the fiends?"

"We did had a run in with a few raiders, though my boys took care of them before anything big happened. They did get a few scratches, but nothing like a trip to Julia couldn't fix them. Speaking of which, how's she and them folk doing?" He asked with some curiosity to his tone.

"They are fine, medical supplies are starting to be manufactured using one of the factories nearby, what they need is more staff with knowledge to make said supplies, but besides that? They are requesting a couple more drops of water." He replied back as he made a small math on his notebook before reaching in his duffel bag. Grabbing a bag filled with bottle caps he counted them, before submitting it to his friend. "Here, this should take care of the medical expenses for your boys."

"Thanks, I'll make sure to give it to them. They'll be thrilled to know their efforts being rewarded." He gratefully accepted the damage fee. He always wanted to know how this man was able to get so many caps, he was a strange guy.

"Anything else that I should know? I need to head towards the east side to see how the farms holding and then to Jacobstown to finalize the documents between our mutual benefits." He explained as he was in a bit of hurry to get a move on. There was a lot of work to be done and not enough time for him to waste.

"Easy there fella, aren't you pushing yourself a bit too much? I know your busy since you became the head honcho of New Vegas, but have you taken a break at all?" He asked showing some concern to the man. "It's been two years since you got Mojave on the palm of your hand, have you been taking any breaks?"

"From time to time. If I want the Mojave to be self sufficient, I gotta put the extra effort to unite everyone that we have right now. We have abandoned Farms to claim, people that need both water and food to eat, medicine to be made and weapons to protect ourselves.

I did make some progress with the former Crimson Caravan, or should I say, Rose's Caravan. Cass has been making a few calls here and there, making Caravans come by to us, though we're still a bit under management to have them protected.

I've had Raul make repairs around the place, mainly around shops and the factories, sometimes on the farms to do basic repairs. They were worried that another leak came out on the pipes, nothing like a patchwork to fix that problem.

I was worried that the NCR would start making a ruckus against me, but so far they probably don't have the manpower to send a party in my general direction. They seem to be more focused on another matter for now." He explained his current progress with his partner, since having Freeside and the Strip on both their hands, they've taken it on themselves to improve the current situation.

"Speaking of the NCR, do you think it was a good idea to let them have that place at the Strip? Don't you think they'll try to slack you on the back of the head when your not looking?"

"You think that I started that battle at Hoover Dam for nothing? No, before that even began to move I made sure to create ties with the NCR, they might not like me now, but they can't ignore what I've done to help them out without their blunders. Letting them have an embassy here is only to show that we tolerate for now, at least they'll help around and not be so stuck up on their desks, for the right price."

"You're a sly one, Six." The King responded with a chuckle at his cunning nature.

"I had to think before I took this whole place for us. Instead of making them an enemy, I made sure to make a solid bond, strong enough for them to not shoot me on the back and still being able to get help from them. You have to be smart in these kind of situations." Six said while putting his notebook back in his duster.

"Still, I think it's a reasonable risk, if they can still help us out, but what would happen if someone was able to knock you off your shoes? What'll happen then?"

"That, my friend, is what I'm trying to find a solution. Best thing that happens you'll be the one to take over. The King, leader of New Vegas. Though you'll be mostly dealing with paperwork and looking over your shoulder all the time."

"That doesn't sound a good time, know what I'm saying." He responded back with some uneasiness to that responsibility.

"You know I do." He then rolled his head to alleviate some of the tension building up. "Right, I should be going. Talk to you another time, King." He turned around and left the gang leader to which Rex strolled up while wagging his tail.

"Hey Rex, ol' boy, how are you doing today?"

* * *

4 months later, Goodsprings

Today was just another day on the Mojave Wasteland, though the only difference was that the temperature seemed to cool down somewhat, which meant that Fall was coming shortly. The town of Goodsprings was bustling with people from all over the place. The increase of population was due to the efforts of the Courier that was dug up from the grave, now a sightseeing spot for the people to see, on the man that came back to life with a drive that most couldn't understand.

"Give me a glass of scotch, I'm parched." One of the trading caravans owners ordered while putting the caps up front.

"Coming right up, hun." Trudy responded as she got a glass cup and poured the liquid down for the man. He took it up and drank it like it was a godsend. "So where are you from hun. Down from the West?"

"Yeah. We just came from the Mojave Outpost, after stamping out our pass we walked towards Primm and then to here. We wanted to see the place where that Courier came about." He informed as he asked for the bottle, and Trudy did so as he poured another cup.

"I've heard it before, hun. Nowadays, our little town is famous because of him. I have to say, he's done pretty good for a man coming out of the grave." She replied while resting her elbow on the counter.

"I'll say, with so much land in the Mojave, he's just about got a quarter of it on his side to screw around. That don' mean he's doin' jack all, putting the NCR in a contract to escort us caravans is a godsend, not to mention the pay that they get for protecting us isn't bad. Though I heard that they just spend it on the casinos at the Strip. Talk about recycling the money." Despite the tone that he spoke, he was generally impressed with the man.

"You don't say? I guess being a caravan owner is a lot easier these days. What about the prospectors? How're they doin'?" Trudy asked as there wasn't much in terms of outside communication, just word from word.

"Oh, it's much easier yeah. At least we don't have to be all that worried with raiders or even the Legion for now. Though the prospectors are getting a fine cut in their adventures, earning 200 caps for filling in a report to the Courier about a potential place where they could install whatever that man is thinking, best part that whatever the prospectors find in there that catch their eye they can take it. Talk about having a sweet deal and a half." He had another sip from his beverage before responding with a satisfied expression.

The doors then open to reveal a figure wearing a weathered riot gear and a duffel bag on his back, his face was obscured by a riot helmet with some scratches. His left combat boot had dried blood on it, meaning that he fought against someone recently. He made his way to one of the stools and put the duffel bag on the floor before rolling his shoulders hearing a clear pop from it. The duster that he was wearing was slightly different from the regular one, having the symbol of the old world flag on his back. What sold the deal that this man was dangerous was with the firepower he was carrying with him.

A customized .44 Revolver Magnum with a modified barrel that was similar to a Hunting Revolver without the scope and painted black in the holster to his right side, a .45 auto modded with a heavy duty slide hidden in his duster just barely poking out, a hunters best friend gun a Hunting Rifle equipped with a scope, custom bolt action and even extended mags resting on his shoulder. On his left hip he kept sheathed a weapon that the trader never thought would have it in his inventory, a Katana. It had the brown scabbard and a red hilt and possibly an actual blade in there.

"Now that's a terrifying sight..." The merchant mumbled before taking his hat and leaving to see the graveyard, at least it was a convenient excuse to get going and not because he was anxious to stay in a room with a man that was as dangerous looking as a deathclaw. When he left, Trudy spoke up to the man.

"Haven't seen you in a while, what brings you here today?" She spoke casually in an upbeat tone to the armored stranger, to which he undid the binds on his helmet and took it off, which revealed a man with a terrible scar on his face that started from his right eye brow, cutting into the middle of his face and going all the way to his left cheek. That was the first thing anyone would see, the second would be the clear two gunshot wounds on the left side of his forehead and thirdly his hardy expression that had solidified throughout the years.

"Same as usual, give me a cup with a shot of vodka and a shot of scotch." He ordered back to her, his voice being a tad bit lighter than what people would assume. He put the caps up front as casually as anyone would.

"Coming right up, hun." She replied as she brought the drinks forward, a cup for her and a cup for him. He got his order while she poured in a glass of whiskey, they clanged their cups together before taking a sip from their beverage, the alcohol burning their throats before heading straight to their liver. "So what brings you here? Business or is it because you missed me?"

"Dunno. Maybe I wanted to see the sun smile or to have a drink with a good friend." He responded before shifting a bit to be a little more comfortable. "Vegas can have all the booze in the world, but it just doesn't go down well like here. The atmosphere is like night and day."

"I get what you mean, I've been around too when I was in my younger days. Hard to find a bar that suits ones taste in scenery." She replied before looking at the time, it was just a quarter past 4 in the afternoon. "From what I hear, you've been quite busy changing up some laws around here, even giving some attention to buildings around these parts, what are you planning?"

"New Vegas is being flocked by everyday, and every hour or so I get a complain that we don't have anymore space to house people. I knew this was going to happen, so before the problem could widespread I marked some places where they could lay for a while as we reconstruct the buildings by recycling the oldest ones. And where was homes that people haven't been able to before? A couple of places really, but Goodsprings was at the top of my list.

Some homes around here were abandoned for a while, and despite more people coming around here to visit my grave, not one batted an eyelid to see a perfectly good building to stay for the night. I guess wooden boards stuck to the doors was enough for them to see the other way."

"Ah, now I see what your doin'. So you want us to have these guys here, but you know it's gonna cost ya. Those houses were blocked for a reason." She informed before the front door opened and another customer entered. The rush of footsteps startled her as Sunny's attack dog, Cheyenne, pounced at Six nearly making him fall from his chair.

"God damn it girl! Heel! Heel!" He ordered her as she wanted him to pet her. She ignored and kept bugging him with excitement on her eyes.

"Cheyenne!" Sunny called her out, making the dog relent her attention to the man of legend. "Sorry 'bout that. She gets too excited sometimes."

"Well, if there's anyone to blame it's me. I play with her too much, heck I sometimes spoil her." He remarked before taking another sip of his beverage before gesturing Trudy for one more cup.

"I'll say you do. I've noticed that she's becoming a bit plump for my taste. You need to lay off the Salisbury steak snacks you give her." She jokingly replied to which he took a defensive stance to that.

"You try telling no to a dog that wants food! They'll give you the best puppy dog eyes that you'll ever see. Not giving her is almost a crime."

"You could always look away, she tried to do that to me before, but until I set her straight she stopped doing that."

"Sorry old girl, you heard the ma'am, no more snacks from this guy." He responded to the dog to which she whined with the doggy eyes. Heading her advice, he turned his eyes away. "You know, I can still feel her staring at me." He then felt two pass on him and scratching. "And now she's begging. God damn it..."

"That's your life now, spoiling dogs." Trudy joked as she put Sunny's drink down, the Courier laughed with her. He then turned serious and looked back at Sunny.

"So, what's the damage?" He asked as he took another sip.

"I've looked around with Easy Pete, most houses are clean, but a few of them have fungus growing. Doc Mitchel told us that they aren't good to stay, something about getting our lungs infected."

"Damn it... that's what I was worried. We gotta torch those houses then, I'll be damned if anyone gets a pulmonary infection because of a blunder." He took one last swing before resting his cup on the counter. "Trudy, you think you can lead the guys I'm sending over here? Just have them work on the farms around here, it'll increase the produce and letting us have a much more stable income of food rations."

"Depends. How many are we talking about?" She asked as she began to clean his cup.

"Not many, 20 tops. They'll be bringing stuff to help on plotting a new farm next to Goodsprings. The more farms we have, the better our chances to survive will increase. I'll also be hiring a few NCR soldiers to have this place protected, having more guns for defenses will be needed because you'll be a greater target."

"You really thought this through, haven't you? Yeah, I guess I can pick this role up." She then noticed that he was pinching the bridge of his nose and that his eyes were red. "You alright? You look like you haven't slept in two weeks."

"Just had a rough night, that's all. Just came here through the north road where I found a group of raiders being manhandled by a deathclaw patrol. Had to make sure that they wouldn't come looking for another place to find food, if you catch my drift."

"The north? Weren't Cazadors there too? How did you even get pass them?" To answer her question, he reached into his duffel bag and brought out the insects poison stinger. "First Deathclaws then Cazadors? Guess your reputation keeps growing."

"I wished that it stayed the same as when I crawled outside my grave, but it looks like I don't have a choice in the matter." He rolled his head, releasing some stress as his bones popped.

"You're doing good, better than anyone that I know of anyway. Not many have the same drive as you do, what is your secret even?" Sunny asked to which he gave a weak chuckle.

"There's no secret for what I do. I'm just doing a job nobody asked me to do. The both of you have a pretty good idea on how things were a year ago right?" He asked as he asked for another shot of vodka.

"Thanks to the new radio station that you established, the Daily Mojave, it is a bit hard not to know. Hard to imagine that so much was going on, the drug addicts, the rogue mercenaries, the violent gangs and even multiple spies from the Legion, not to mention on how the critters were taking our land." Trudy responded as mostly everyone from the Mojave that had a radio knew what was going on.

"Yeah. These last few months I've been hammering down multiple squads on taking down the critters and adding more personnel for the Followers of the Apocalypse. Crime has gone down by a good 30%, but every now and then some jackass comes around, riles up the people only to be shot dead. Our main problem for now is food, which I'm taking care of it right now. Second is to attempt create or repair a power plant in order to have more power to be distributed. Thirdly is to have more armed forces to push back the Mojave critters or to attempt to tame them. And Lastly-... well, you don't need to know that part." He informed before taking a swing from his drink.

"Now that's just mean, you piqued our interest fella. How about you share it for old Trudy and Sunny?" She asked as Sunny rested her elbow on the counter looking at the Courier, however the effect was less than appreciated.

"A man has secrets ladies, the same way you two also have. Specially in my case." He responded before standing up. "I've rested long enough, I got work to do and not enough time to waste on. I got paperwork to do and houses to burn down. Till next time, ladies." He grabbed his duffel bag, walked away as he put his helmet back on and strapped on the bindings.

"And just like that, the dead man walks towards work once again. I'm not much of a religious person, but compare to most people he's almost like a saint."

"A saint with more weapons on his body than anybody else." Sunny retorted while sharing a chuckle with Trudy as a new customer came in. "Well, I've got to go back to work, we don't want anyone to be a gecko's snack today either."

* * *

6 months later, Hoover Dam

"Ah! Mister Six! So glad that you've come in such short notice! Were you able to read my report on the situation?" One of the mechanics of the Dam asked while using a rag to wipe away the sweat on his forehead.

"Yeah, I've read it on the way. The hydraulics system has been having some malfunctions and you're worried about the wall starting to have cracks, right?" He asked as he brought a Super Mutant with him, courtesy of Marcus to help out with the heavy lifting.

"What you want me to do?" The mutant asked wanting to return back to the safety of the town.

"Easy there fella, we've just got here. Behave and you'll have on your hands a minigun to play with, okay?" Six calmed the mutant down as he got brightened by the idea of having that minigun.

"Okay, I do as you say. Can't wait to use minigun!" He announced as his mouth curved into a twisted smile that the mechanic was off putted by it.

"Show me where the problem lies." The Courier ordered to which made the man snap out of his stupor and lead them into the inner layer of the Dam. "Oh... this is much worse than I thought..."

It was not just one crack, it was a hole that showed the tubing of the place that ran the water, and the cracks were getting dangerously close to the hydraulics system, worst was that the system was actually slowed down, resulting the water to start bending the metal blades due to the extremely strong current.

"So far we've put the turbine at minimum power, but I fear that we might've put more problems with that, not to mention that the power output has gone down by a considerable amount. We're only running at 55% efficiency." The mechanic explained to him as the Courier was thinking to himself with his gaze staring at the hole, while right his index finger was tapping on his arm.

"Close the waterway to the turbine, stop it completely and reroute all available power to the other turbines. This one needs serious repairs, not to mention that we need cement to cover the hole before any more instability can occur. I've brought with me at the entrance enough limestone and sand to do a patch job for now, but next time I'll send more to make it a proper repair. The turbines blades however... We might need to remove them and repair them separately, because they seem to be bent out of shape due to the water pressure."

"Alright, I'll go ahead and tell the staff about it! Please make yourself at home!" The mechanic said before walking towards the people controlling the Dam's systems, albeit in an increased pace.

"Go get the materials outside. If it's too heavy then just take what you can." He ordered the mutant to which he did as he was told. When they arrived the people at the Dam pointed their weapons at the green fellow, but a shot to the air from his .44 Revolver was enough for them to catch their attention and telling them that he was a friend. "Now how are we going to take the turbine blades out of there, that's the real question... Could try my hand in power armor, but I'd need 4 other people to help me in that regard. Wonder if I can coax the Brotherhood of Steel to help out." He thought aloud as he paced back and forward while thinking.

His attention was caught as his Pip-boy received a specific radio frequency used by the Big Mountain residents, the doctors. He looked around, before deciding to move to an area that wouldn't hear their voice.

"This is Six, what do you have for me Dr. Klein?" He asked as he entered a room that was mainly used to house extra mechanical parts and locked the door, before having his device lock on the signal.

"YES, WELL SUFFICE TO SAY THAT WE'VE MADE SOME PROGRESS ON THAT THING THAT YOU ASKED." His voiced boomed as it irritated the Courier and from his voice in the Think Tank, the genius Dr. Klein.

"Again with the volume knob? Who was it this time? Was it 8 or 0?" He inquired to which he got a very loud response.

"FOR ALL I KNOW, IT COULD'VE BEEN EVERYONE! BAH, THIS IS NO TIME FOR WORRYING THE VOLUME OF MY VOICE MODULE! THE THING IS WE MADE PROGRESS ON THE ESCAPE DEVICE THAT YOU PROPOSED. HOWEVER... WE MIGHT HAVE SOME BAD RESULTS."

"Bad results?" He thought for a bit on what it could be. "Alright, let me try to guess. A) It's only a one time use before breaking. B) It transports me to somewhere random. and C) It just kills me. Which one?" He asked while the doctor was looking at the notes and equations that was on his screen.

"I'M SURPRISED THAT YOUR INTELLECT STILL HOLDS A CANDLE WITH US! THOUGH UNFORTUNATELY, WITHOUT PRIOR TESTING NOR ANY WILLING TEST SUBJECTS WE FEAR THAT IT MIGHT BE ALL THREE AT THE SAME TIME. ON THE BRIGHT SIDE OF THINGS, YOU'LL BE THE FIRST BEING TO TEST IT, ON THE NEGATIVE SIDE? IT'S A ONE WAY TRIP TO YOUR DEATH."

"Damn it... again with a gamble, and the odds are less than pleasant." He cursed under his breath before recomposing himself. "Still, it's all I've got for now. Keep me informed on when it's done. Six out." He cut off the frequency before opening the door and returning to the room, where the mutant brought in everything. "Let's get this patched up for now, big guy. Then we'll get you that minigun."

* * *

3 years and 2 months later, Lucky 38

Inside the old casino at the top floor, sitting on a desk, the courier looked over at the recent reports that he has been receiving. Production rate has increased drastically since he started to give farms the much needed attention that it deserved, medical supplies have been supervised by the Followers of the Apocalypse, staff for both the Followrs and the Mojave Protection Force has increased once more with Boone at the helm, the creation of more Securitrons has been steadily increasing making the Strip and Freeside even more well protected, and crime has decreased once more.

However, the NCR is starting to clash heads with New Vegas once more and the Legion hasn't made much noise either which is concerning. Despite the efforts of everyone, it looked like a third battle was going to happen again, but the target wasn't Hoover Dam, it was the Courier's head. While Six has made great strides in easing the life in the Mojave wasteland, not everything has been sunshine and rainbows.

During the times that the courier would go for a walk, he had to deal with squads of assassins that would disrupt the peace that he had fought to get, forcing him to fight back at times that they were still recuperating. Most of the times there was death in his wake, others he was feeling merciful and letting them go, only to come back again stronger and then being killed later.

There was active sabotages at the power plants that he created, mysterious coordinated raids towards key points, like Helios one and even some cases of abduction. The damage was always minimized though, thanks to the loyalty of some NCR soldiers that he employed and the Mojave protection force. Still, it was rather unsettling that things were only now falling apart.

He signed a document that was to authorize the purchase of more weapons and armor made by the Gun Runners to better equip the protection force, so that they would be much harder to get hit and harder for them to hit. So far, they were equipped with Hunting Rifles, Service Rifles and 10MM pistols while having combat armor on, with the document signed they'd be fitted with a MK2 combat armor, while for the weapons they'd be having a Sniper Rifle, Assault Carbine and a .45 Auto Pistol, it'll take out more of the fortune that Six had accumulated through the years, but if it meant that they could put up a better fight then it'd be worth it.

"I think that should do it for now. A break would be heaven right about now... Screw it, break it is." He left his swivel chair and headed towards the the lounge where he sat down on the red couch, poured himself a cup of whiskey and lit up a cigarette, taking a long drag from it he let go and slowly let the smoke out from his lungs. He took a sip from his drink before another message came in through his pip-boy. "Another one? What is it this time?"

As he put his cup down, he quickly accessed the message he had been expecting, albeit he admitted that they wouldn't have the spine to carry out.

_'Foxhound. The nest is being targeted by the bear. Expected time, 1 year.'_

"Damn it!" He banged on the white painted table with enough force that cracks appeared on the point of impact. "I thought I'd have another four years before they started this shit up, but no... They just saw how Oliver's way was too fucking slow so now they're going to storm here in a year? Fuck!" He cursed the NCR for their wounded pride, specially because of President Kimbell.

"Calm down... this is what they are expecting of you, to lose your cool. Deep breath, in and out..." He calmed down a bit before resuming smoking to calm his nerves further. "This is fine. I've been doing a good work, everything in the Mojave as been improved significantly. Life expectancy and life conditioning has increased with everything that I've done these last six years. I just need one little more push, just a tad bit more before everything goes down."

"Hey partner, you've got a visitor and she's looking mighty fine today." Victor came rolling while behind him was Veronica in her armored robes, she had her hood down.

"Well butter my biscuit, this is a surprise! Last time I checked you were still in the highway giving some repairs and finished some research notes." Six commented as she walked down the stairs to meet with him.

"Yeah, well, I thought that you had time for a visit. People get a bit worried when you don't leave this place for a couple of days straight." She responded before he gave her a weak chuckle.

"People are worried about me? Then the world might as well be pitying me! So, who's the suckers that's worried about the most well known man in the Mojave?" He asked as he poured her a glass of Scotch.

"Well for starters, how about the residents on the Strip? Or at Freeside? Or even at Primm and Goodspring? Not to mention your friend right here?" She counted with her fingers.

"Wait, I was here only for a couple of days, what's everyone getting worried with?" He questioned now confused.

"I was being sarcastic you idiot, you haven't left for 3 straight weeks! Seriously, what's making you hold up here? Don't tell me it's paperwork, even I know you don't get that much, heck Cass gets even less." She informed as he took another puff and another sip from his drink.

"3 weeks? It felt like a couple of days to me. It might not look much for you, missy, but my paperwork is actually the triple that Cass gets. Contracts, documents, intel, reports, you name it. Doesn't help that every other day I get a report from anything that passes by in Vegas. It's surprisingly stress inducing since I gotta sit down for hours and move my hands like a machine." He commented before rolling his head and release some pops from his neck. "How's the rest of the gang doing?"

"They're good. Boone seems busy with all the vigilantes you made along the way, you gave him the commanding role so the patrols have been coordinated and easy to follow. ED-E's been around the place, just moving around Vegas and playing a song for everyone to hear. Raul's been repairing stuff all the time, heck he's been doing it so much that people started to call him the All-Repair man from everything that he's done. Lily's been here and there, just acting like the grandma that she is, besides that? I don't know much else about Arcade or ol' Rex." She replied while taking a sip of her drink.

"What about you? What have you been up to?" He asked as he put out the cigarette, she always hated the smell that they produced.

"Me? You know, the usual. Repair this, finish a research there, finding supplies in places people don't assume... The usual really." She replied, but he saw that she was holding on some more info.

"Veronica, I know when you're holding out on me. You tend to look to the side when you have more stuff to say." He smirked when she was annoyed at how perspective that he was.

"Fine! I also came around to see myself how you were doing and by the look of your face, not so hot." She commented as she saw the bags under his eyes and how he was smoking, he barely had the drive to do so, only when his stress was going overboard. "Plus, I couldn't really just go around the Strip without paying a visit to the guy that gave me a dress, now can I?"

"Found anyone you fancy on the new Gomorrah?" He asked as he made SEVERE changes on the casino, everything from employees, to booze, to escorts. He didn't want another bad feeling in the place, so he made sure everyone was going accordingly and within the laws that he established about the well being of everything. Escorts were treated with care for their services, each and everyone had periodic medical check ups to make sure that they were clean, fed good food and were in a nice environment where they could do their business in private, just some much needed human decency. Anyone that roughed up the hookers were to pay extra in order for them to recuperate, Six would be there to judge if they were lying or not to avoid fraud.

"I have to admit, some of them grabbed my eye, and the place now actually feels like a casino should. But I'm not here for the fun times, not yet. I've been thinking that maybe you could come with me, you know, like the old times. Just drinking and having a fun time!" She said with the smallest hint of desperation.

"Hmm... Fine. I need to leave the Lucky 38 anyways. Can't be holed up here all the time." He responded before finishing his drink. She shrieked in delight.

"Oh this is going to be so much fun! Come on! Let's go! Let's go! Let's get drunk as all hell and have a good time!" She then grabbed his arm and started pulling him towards the elevator. Didn't help that she had the strength of a brahmin to pull him.

"Easy there Veronica! Jesus, you're gonna yank my arm off!"

* * *

1 year later, Lucky 38

"Well, today's the day. I'm sure that they're going to stick to their schedule as soldiers would." The courier mumbled as he packed everything that he could in his duffel bag. Medical equipment and chems, some seeds from the various plants of the Mojave wasteland, weapons that were easy enough to carry and ammunition to last for days. A few books for entertainment, a toolbox in pristine condition with tools that took a while to clean up, an extra set of clothes, a Regulator duster compliments of the Lonesome drifter, his own Duster, the one that he received from Ulysses, a Ranger red scarf outfit, just because he liked how it looked on him, a wasteland wanderer outfit and for the style of it all, his own Kings Outfit, because damn do the clothes look good to wear. He donned his Riot Gear because he wanted to be ready for anything.

Finally in his hands, a picture taken not too long ago. Everyone that he had as a companion as there, they were laughing happily while eating Lilly's food and drinking cold drinks. Though happy he was in that picture, the courier could only lament at what was going to happen today. As he put the photo in his bag, he double checked if his gear and other supplies were ready to go, so far he had everything.

"So, you're really going." Boone comes in through the door in his office, his trademark first recon beret proudly sitting on his head and his first Recon survival armor, now having a hole or two more from these last seven years.

"Yep. If I want to avoid the least amount of bloodshed, then I gotta pack up. I know you don't want to see your old comrades blood on the floor." He responded as he went to the table and put in the two canteens of water that he nearly forgot to pack.

"That's kind of you, but is it really necessary for you to leave? You could always fight, there's nothing stopping you from doing that. So tell me, word for word, why would the greatest man that I've ever served need to leave the land that he fought tooth and nail to get?"

"Because the Mojave is going to receive my message at last." He responded as he looked at his old friend. "This land isn't mine, it's ours. We the inhabitants are what shaped it, not the NCR and certainly not the god damn Legion. The people are the ones that made this place, not me."

"Message? What are you talking about? If it wasn't for you, this place would still be the same grueling land as before. What makes you think that the NCR won't just march through the land and take it?"

"My friend..." He took his helmet to his hands as he looked at him. "From the very beginning, I've never been the guy to lead people. I was just a Courier doing my job. But even so, I wanted the people to fight their own battles. They don't need to depend on me, not anymore. You'll see." He was certain in his words as he brought out his Ham Radio. "Go downstairs and have a drink, my last transmission is about to begin and I'm going to say a couple of truths. If Cass was here she'd think that I drunk too much or I'd get a power fist through the gut, compliments of Veronica."

"You're really going through with this, aren't you?" He asked still not wanting to believe it.

"Yeah." That was the only confirmation that Boone needed to hear.

"...Sir!" He saluted to the Courier, the man that had gone with him through heaven and hell and gave him the closure that he needed for his past.

"I might not see you again, but you were the best, soldier." He imitated the gesture with a hardened look of resolution. That was all the sniper needed to see. No faltering nor regrets. He was more than ready. With that, he left leaving the Courier alone at last. "Yes Man, you listen to The King's orders now, got it?"

"Alright buddy, if you think that's for the best! Updating new person in charge." He responded back to him cheerfully, before starting to update the new changes.

He booted up the radio and put himself on the frequency before speaking through the microphone.

"Morning everyone from the Mojave, this is Six from the Daily Mojave, wanting to give you kind people the current weather for today. It seems that we might have another sunny day with no clouds in sight, though there might be a sandstorm in the making, so be careful while making your way through the wasteland! Tradings with the Caravans has never been safer from these last couple of years, with mercenaries and hired muscle from the NCR, water and food seem to be stable enough for everyone to have a normal living and raiders started to go down by the day!" He took a small pause before continuing dragging it on.

"It is truly amazing, what we've accomplished these last 7 years. After the NCR and Legion were kicked out, everyone thought that we wouldn't survive the first month, and we nearly didn't. But we are a bunch of stubborn Brahmin, aren't we? No matter how many chips we are down, we also find a way to turn the odds to our favor. After that, it was almost smooth sailing.

We've built more farms to plant vegetables, power plants to get energy to run our appliances and defenses, secured more food and water then we would've in a decade and liberated more land than we actually need! This was not the effort of just one man folks, this was our effort. Every drop of sweat, blood and effort was for us to make it until now. The NCR can have all the land that they want and the Legion can try to force it however they want, but this... this is something we earned it for ourselves." Another small pause before steeling himself.

"I haven't been honest with you lot, truth is... The whole of the Mojave wasteland... Everything that I've done so far, as been a road of repentance. When Benny popped two caps on my head, I was struck with amnesia, not remembering whatever the heck I've done in the past or even remembering my own name. So I adopted my current one 'Courier Six', what was meant to be a normal delivery ended with me in a shallow grave and then began a journey of revenge.

But as I kept walking the destroyed roads, exploring the Mojave and meeting new people, the more I kept thinking on how I was going to meet with the man himself. Was I going ahead and pop two bullets back to him? Was I gonna break his legs and make him beg for mercy? Was I going to punch him right in the mouth? Or was I gonna hear him out on why he did it?

I was angry for the longest time, yet I got distracted every time with other things. I've made a trip to Utah with the Happy Trails Caravan, met the Burning Man himself and convinced him to let go of his hatred, that if he wanted to truly take a step into peace, then he had to let go of it. Afterwards, I went to the legend of the Sierra Madre and it was a horror film to the last detail. Just a bunch of people that couldn't let go of the past and all it took was a stupid Courier to make them come to terms with themselves. Some decided to stay, others left to their own accord. I even visited the Big Empty, but it is best that I left that there.

Wherever I walked, it was just the same thing. People couldn't let go of the past or simply carried the past with them for more than they should have. But if there was a place that truly made me open my eyes, was my forgotten sin, the Divide." He closed his eyes as he saw the destruction that he delivered to that place and how it wouldn't ever be the same.

"The Divide, a place with intense radiation, a place destroyed by unknown reasons. All of you know this from word to word, but I know the truth for I am living proof of it. I was the one that delivered the instrument of destruction, an activation device, awakening the missile silo from it's dormant state and killing both NCR and Legion indirectly, though they weren't really dead. They became phantoms of their old selves, hunting down whoever was different from them, without a hint of hesitation. I walked that Lonesome Road, saw with my own eyes what I had done and when I met the person that had called me, another Courier, we talked. Each and every word that he spoke was nothing more than the truth and each interaction that he had made, unravel another mystery from my forgotten past.

I was the cause for all those lives, but I had forgotten about it due to my amnesia. Or maybe I chose to forget, not wanting to carry the weight on my shoulders. But no matter how much I run from it, or how far I travel, it'll always remain there, like the mistakes that we make in our lives or the actions that we regret till this day." Another pause as he opened a canteen to drink a bit of water for his parched throat.

"The Mojave was my road to redemption, at least in my eyes. With some hope, maybe I was able to redeem myself even for just a little bit. But with all roads, there's going to be an ending somewhere right?

That's what I wanted to inform you. Today, after seven years of service to all of you, I'm stepping down from my position and transferring it to The King in Freeside. I've had my fair dealings with him, he's trustworthy enough.

I was informed a year ago that the NCR was planning to march their way into the Lucky 38 disguised as civilians, today is the day that they'll make their move. Normally, you'd see me fight off against impossible odds and come up on top, but not today. I don't want unnecessary bloodshed from that useless bastard that they call President Kimbell or the war maniac Legate Lanius.

In preparation for the assassin unit, I've been in contact with people that could help me escape. In every sense of the way, this is actions of a coward, but I don't care. I want to live, but I don't want New Vegas or the Mojave to suffer another 3rd battle, if by leaving means that you good folk are gonna be alright, then that's quite fine for me.

...

I have a message to deliver to you, Mojave. Will you listen to me? This land is not mine to keep, it was yours to begin with and so I'm giving it back to you folks. The NCR and the Legion can go fuck themselves to think that they can take what was rightfully yours. New Vegas and the Mojave wasteland are and will always be independent, because you people are free from those wannabe gods and masters.

Even when I'm gone, you people are gonna give them hell, because each and every one of you are one tough son of a bitch. And it was my pleasure- no, my honor to have met each and everyone one of you. I'm glad that I was able to be your friend until the very end, it has been tough, but fun as well. Look at me being all sappy for a simple goodbye... Bet you all are laughing at me right now." He took out the device that supposedly will take him to somewhere else. He aimed at a nearby wall and fired it, sounding almost like a laser pistol shooting as it opening a portal, the device broke soon after malfunctioned before breaking into different pieces, like the junk that his office had. The doctors at the think thank told him that they had no idea what would happen when he traversed the wormhole, that there may have side effects during or after the travel, to expect the worst.

"My road here is over, Mojave. You've been one hell of a ride." He put his duffel bag on and put his back to the ham radio. "War, war never changes, men do. Through the roads that we walk on" He mumbled to himself with the words that Ulysses spoke of, his lips curved up slightly while putting his helmet on. "I'll see you if our paths cross again, but I doubt it."

"New California Republic! Courier Six, you are under arrest!" The door was suddenly kicked, service rifles all trained upon his back, shouting at his name.

"Sorry fellas! Not today." And with that he walked through the portal casually, as they started to open fire on him. As soon as he passed over, the portal collapsed and the only thing that the ham radio could pick up, was the military unit questioning what happened and the absence of their once greatest ally.


	2. Barter 101

It was truly an odd experience for the Courier as he walked through the wormhole. Normally, he thought that he would've instantly walked to the other side where the portal was connected. Not the case in this place.

It was like he was in a tunnel that was interconnected with multiple branching places, each a window to a different place, yet despite him wanting to experiment on touching the tunnels outer bounds he refrained to do so, as he might disturb the flow of things as they were.

He kept walking in that odd space, where no wind passed through him or whistled, where no sound except his footsteps could be heard. Looking around at the same time at the windows that branched off. Many of the places he could not see well enough, too blurry to make anything out if anything at all. He had to guess that wherever he's going, it was to a set location that the Think Tank was able to find, a frequency that they were able to grasp, if their tests were true.

Time seemed to slow down with each step that he took, it was rather annoying that his normal pace was reduced to the point where he might as well be using power armor while being over encumbered.

After what seemed like days, maybe even weeks of walking, he saw light at the end of this wormhole tunnel. It was connected to a window that had tree blooming and the earth seemed alive, a rare sight to see due to him being in the Mojave all the time. The only place where even vegetation was present was near Jacobstown.

When he was face to face with the entrance to this new place, he hesitated. He had no idea where he would be, nor how dangerous it could actually be. He might be armed, but what are the chances that his weapons would do anything to whatever creature could inhabit in this place. Standing around would solve nothing, so with much delay, he took a step forward and passed through the gate that he had done.

* * *

Remnant, Kingdom of Mistral - 7 years prior the events of RWBY

Once passed, he finally felt the wind on his body, heard the sound of the vegetation ruffle beneath the wind and saw the sky, as blue as what the an ocean to him looked like. He looked over his shoulder to see the portal close off. It was done, there was absolutely no going back now, unless he there are people in this world like the brains in the Think Tank he was stuck.

"What is this place? It's... beautiful." He asked as he walked and looked around the place. Trees, bushes, animals. This place was alive, not like the Mojave wasteland, this one had to yet suffer the same fate as where he was. He took his helmet off and just took in the fresh air, it was honestly different from what he always had to breathe in, it was much more energetic and pleasant to take it in.

He blindly walked forward slowly, each step silent to not let anyone alert his presence, or anything in the matter. It was oddly revitalizing seeing so much green, the only time he could experience this was when he went to Zion, and despite the predicament at that time, he still felt at home. This was no different as he was attuned to nature, for the most part. His experiences as a survivor made him much more enduring to harsh weather and could make him go hours, if not days without having a speck to eat. Water though was more of an issue than anything, at least in the Mojave.

In his stride, he was surprised to find a dirt road in his exploration of this new place. He took the path to the right, following the road, for if there was a road, then there should be a settlement in its wake.

"A dirt path, a forest with life, animals not mutated from prolonged exposure to radiation... Where the hell am I?" He muttered to himself as he put his helmet back on, wanting to be prepared if anyone decided to shoot him in the head, again. "One thing's for certain, a dirt path means civilization or a settlement at the very least. Worth a shot anyways."

As he walked the road, he simply felt as this whole scenario was surreal, like maybe he had fallen asleep and he was dreaming all of this. That all of this was his imagination taking shape in the confines of his subconscious. Though, for a dream, it was awfully realistic if he could feel everything so far. But no, he knew this was real, that he left the Lucky 38 in a way that nobody would have ever thought of.

"That was some speech I gave to them, heck they may have been asleep when I gave it so there's really no evidence that they heard what I said. I sounded such an aged idiot, hard to believe that a 32 year old man would just ramble on things like, what was rightfully theirs or about his backstory. Wonder if they went ahead to engage that platoon after that whole thing went down. Would be surprised if they didn't!" He chuckled to himself as another thought crossed his mind.

"That's right, the Think Tank had no way to know if there were any significant side effects would happen to me during or after the travel. It might be better to see what changed on me or my stuff." He mumbled as he took a moment to get off the road and inspect his equipment and supplies. "Hmm... everything seems in order in the duffel bag, armor seems fine as well, good. Didn't want it roughed up because of some strange tunnel."

He heard a stream running nearby, something that was rare in the Mojave. Maybe in this part of Earth it was more common, or maybe he was just lucky to find one. He had walked for a good while, so having a drink would be nice and to refill his canteen. As he approached the small stream, he saw the sight of a stag drinking the water that passed by, he hid in a bush and simply looked at the free animal. It was simply stunning to see such a creature peacefully taking a break, it looked like just like how the pre war photos showed him, how stags should look like.

After a few minutes, the animal rose its head sharply, it's ears moving around to pinpoint the sound that it heard and moving it's head to see where it possibly could've come from. It became agitated as the stag ran away, instincts kicking in as danger came around. Shortly after, a bipedal creature covered in black fur and armored with what looks like bone like armor walked towards the spot the stag had been for a moment.

"What in the god damn..." Six mumbled quietly as he kept looking and studying the creature. It looked like a deathclaw, but it was way different from what he remembered. It was wolf like for one, didn't seem to have scales at all and wasn't armored with the usual horns on the head nor the bulky build that one had. "What kind of creature is that one?"

Three more of them walked to the lone one, they grunted each other before sniffing the air, attempting to sense any presence close to them. Slowly, the courier took out his .45 and attached the silencer as he pointed towards the creatures silently, waiting to see if they could pinpoint his location with their sense of smell.

For a brief moment, they stared straight at him with their ears moving from multiple directions hearing the different sounds around them. Six lightly squeezed the trigger, getting more than ready to start the fight and he wanted to be the first one to attack.

Then suddenly, the creatures snapped their head to the East, their attention was grabbed by something, their growls escaped from their maws as they started to move cautiously at the sound that originated.

Lowering his gun slowly, the courier decided to not follow the creatures or to engage them. If he could save ammo then he'd save as much as he could, even though he wished to see what materials he could collect, but not when there was a pack of four creatures that he knew nothing about. He removed the silencer and placed it back on his pocket while his .45 Auto Pistol was holstered back inside of his Riot Gear duster.

He took out his canteen before drinking about a fifth of it's contents, and then he filled it with the water of the stream. The water seemed clean, without an ounce of radiation, so it was drinkable at the very least, a godsend in the Mojave.

"Come to think of it, I barely had time to wash my face in the morning, because the bastards in the NCR would come at that time, thinking that I wouldn't be aware of their situation." He took his helmet off and scooped the water to his face, cleaning any residual dirt and sweat that accumulated since the morning. When he stared at his reflection he saw the look of a tired man with relief. "Guess those side effects didn't change anything after all. Got lucky."

He was still the 32 year old man that people from the Mojave that knew. Hard to believe that he was still kicking even after all the punishment that he had gotten from, even two bullets to the skull couldn't bring him down. Though, as he kept inspecting himself, he saw the surgically precise cuts on his head and all the scars that he got in Big MT.

"Kinda wish that the side effects did kick in to see what would've changed. If it could, i don't know, cover these surgical cuts then I'd be really grateful. Bah for my wishful thinking. Did anything change though?" He booted up his Pip-Boy and took a look at his PERKS tab. "Hmm... Everything seems in order. At least the side effects don't seem affect my memory or cognitive responses. Wait what's this new perk?" In his Pip-Boy it showed a Vault Boy with clothing very similar to Six, the duster in the image was moving as if wind was passing through.

_Veteran Survivor - You have survived the worst horrors, fought the toughest battles when the chips were down, dealt with the most difficult obstacles in your way without faltering once. You are not to be trifled with, even in unfamiliar land. Your presence evokes a sense of respect from others towards you, and you have the experience to back that up. People are more compliant to hear you out, and not get in your bad side._

"Odd... I don't remember ever getting this perk... did I get it after I passed the tunnel or when I was passing? Where's the stuff that the Think Tank used as testing to see if anything happened? Did they stay in that tunnel and floated about or did they somehow go inside those bright windows? Questions for later." He thought to himself as he put back his helmet, whatever happened with them, he might as well not even care.

He returned to the dirt path that he found before and continued forward, keeping an eye for enemies that might ambush him, he'd rather not get jumped like in the Mojave and then have to limp towards a safe place only to use his precious medical supplies to remove the shrapnel and waste another stimpak on the wound. He was pretty stingy unless he had a fair supply of them. He then finally found a wooden post with direction, trouble was... he couldn't read the letters.

"What's this, tribal words? Damn it, was I in Utah or New Canaanite? No, I couldn't be, or I'd already see destroyed buildings or tents. Well, there's two spots to go... I'll go right, because I'm feeling lucky in that way." He mumbled to himself as he turned to the right and walked in that direction.

The road was quiet, but not to the point to make him feel tense as birds chirped every now and again. He kept a steady guard and his footsteps even quieter, in case any aggressive animal or those strange beasts wanted a piece of him. As he was walking, he found ahead of him a person walking in the same direction as him, though his way of walking was odd.

"Is he drunk? No... it looks like his leg is bummed, there's dry blood on his pants and it looks like he's dragging it, his body is also flinching every time he puts force on it." He thought to himself as he observed him from afar. "God damn my good nature... Hey there!" He called out towards the man, to which he turned around with a sharp look at him, his right hand on slowly making it's way to his holster. "You okay? You look like you were attacked not too long ago!"

"..." He didn't responded as he kept his guard up, he sized the individual in front of him from top to bottom. He noticed the firearm on his right hip and the rifle behind his shoulder, not to mention the large duffel bag on his back.

"I'm kinda like a doctor, you want me to take a look at the damage? It might be worth your while, mainly because it might get infected if not treated." He reasoned with the person still with his guard up, but after a tense moment the guy nodded towards a nearby tree, he followed him as he sat down with a grunt on his voice with his back on the wall.

The guy was nothing too much to look, sharp blue eyes, small nose, a few scars here and there, and what looked like deep blue hair. But his clothes and weapon were an eye catcher. Six never saw such clothing in the Mojave since it covered the man up, almost shrouding him when he was in the shadows and his weapon looked like a high tech laser gun, though he didn't saw any batteries powering it.

"Alright, let's take a look at the leg, just to get a reading of the situation." The Courier spoke while using a pair of scissors to cut the fabric, the man twitched his hand towards his gun, looks like he liked the pants. "Sorry buddy, but if I can avoid making it worse, I gotta cut it for now. I'll sew it up after I'm done, alright?" His words seemed to somewhat calm him down a bit as he took a look at the leg wound.

"Oh boy... this doesn't look too good, partner. You were attacked by one of those creatures weren't you? Their claws went deep in your muscle, luckily it didn't reach your bone so no need to do anything about it. From the smell, it isn't infected yet, that's at least good but I'll disinfect it just in case." He turned the leg slowly to the side to see if there was anymore damage to it. "Hmm, the claw mark is big, but it doesn't look that bad in my eyes."

He dropped his duffel bag and drew from it a Doctor's bag. He put it beside him and placed a cloth on the grass as he put the tools down on it. He brought out some alcohol, a medical bracelet, a clean rag, a sewing kit and a stimpak to the side. First he proceeded to clean the wound, pouring some alcohol on the rag, slowly and carefully cleaning the wound. The man hissed under the pain.

"Easy there partner, this is the easy part. I'll put morphine in a moment, but I need you to feel the pain for a bit." He reassured the man as he continued to clean it, before taking out a serine and administering the morphine on the leg. It took a while to take effect, but the man slowly began to show relief that the pain had been stopped for now. "Alright, now that that's done, I'll need to have a deeper look, just to see if more extended damage happened."

With some forceps, he opened the wound without the man showing much discomfort, the drug doing its work. Luckily, it was a somewhat clean attack, so he could simply sew it up and bandage it up. Opening the sewing kit, he took out the needle with thread and started to sew the wound up. He pierced the flesh with the needle before making the meat close it. Afterwards he disinfected the sewed up wound before wrapping it with a bandage. He picked up a stimpak and tapped the needle with his finger.

"What's that?" The man finally spoke, his tone was wary as he never saw that type of syringe before.

"Hmm? It's a stimpak." He casually responded back to him, but the confused expression told him that he was still confused on what it was. "Uh, well, think of it as a pick me up, you know, a modified dose of morphine. It'll make this a bit better." He tried his best to respond while being vague about it. If he didn't know what a stimpak was, then he might as well keep it quiet.

He injected the liquid just above the wound before putting a medical bracelet on it to make him have a better time moving the leg.

"Why did you heal me?" The man asked, now deciding to be more talkative. Six however gave an automatic answer to that.

"You're a wounded person, a patient. Treating and healing a person is the job." He then started to disinfect and organize the rest of the supplies onto the doctors bag to then stuffing them on his duffel bag. "That'll hold for now. You'll be good enough to walk, give it a few days and you should be good. I'd recommend to head to a doctor to take out the stitches when it's healed up.

"Do you even know who I am?" The man asked as he moved his hand to his holster.

"Hell if I know. You look like a regular guy to me, apart from the clothes." He replied honestly as he grabbed one of his canteens and offered to the man. "Here, you must be parched from that patch job."

"Regular guy? Do you know what this is?" The man pointed towards the damaged mask hidden beneath his, what the Courier supposed, coat. It was dark as ebony and had pieces of cloth here and there that tried to look intimidating.

"Cool mask, is it supposed to mean anything to me?" He responded back indifferent, which surprised the man again, he was about to tell him, but considering his situation he'd be better to just say part of the truth.

"It means I'm a murderer and a thief. You just healed a guy that killed people."

"Ah, I get you now, and let me tell you, I don't really care what you did or what you'll do. a patient is a patient, no matter how wicked he is or how sinful he can be." First rule of being a doctor, treat everyone that you can, second rule of being a doctor in the Mojave, have a gun ready when the patient is thinking of some shady business.

"...You're an odd human." He commented to him as the Courier got out two honey mesquite pods for his patient.

"Same could be said about you, but you don't see me commenting on you." He replied back as he rolled his head. "Do you perhaps know where this road takes us?" The guy looked at him confusedly at his question.

"Didn't you saw the sign back there?"

"I...uh... I couldn't read it." He answered with some embarrassment, the guy on the other hand was suspicious.

"So you know how to do a patch work, but don't know how to read? I find that hard to believe."

"Well, I wasn't exactly the reading type! I simply watched, practiced, and passed through trial and error. Worked well so far." He lied, he did know how to read, but the text on that sign was foreign to him. He did say some truth on how he learned it.

"Learning how to deal with wounds without reading a single book? You must've had one hell of a time with your teacher." He proclaimed before pointing forward with his finger. "That way leads to Kuchinashi, better known as the best place for people like me to go there. Maybe it's best you took your good nature in the opposite direction."

_"Kuchinashi? That's definitely nowhere near USA or California. A foreign country? Sounds Japanese as all hell, but last time I heard, the Japanese didn't have clothes like his."_ Six thought carefully on what he just gathered. Unknown creatures? Green forests? Clear streams? Odd clothes? Foreign place? It started to click with him.

"Oh you gotta be kidding me..." The Courier mumbled to himself as he pulled up his Pip-Boy and tried the map function, the odd device grabbed the strangers attention. As he fumbled with the device, he finally saw that he had no map whatsoever, it simply said 'No RobCo satellite detected'. "...You trust five scientists to give you a device to get you away and then you get teleported here, fucking unbelievable. Props to them, it did its job, just not what I was expecting." He grumbled silently as he lowered his Pip-Boy with a sigh.

"You said that the name of the place is Kuchinashi, right? City of thieves, assassins and so on. Yeah, I'll set up shop there." He casually said as he lifted his duffel bag and holstered it on his back.

"Are you serious? It's not an ideal place to go to! You'll be in constant danger all the time." The man urged him to go the other direction, but the Courier just put a hand up.

"I'm already used to that crap. Plus, a city of people like you are bound to get into lots of trouble. If I set up shop there, I might do some good there. Get myself some much needed supplies and most importantly, a place to stay rooted for a bit. Get my bearings straight." He responded with some of his own logic before pointing to his leg. "And I doubt that you'll walk fine with that leg of yours. So I might as well, accompany you until we reach the city. An extra pair of eyes and hands are better than going alone."

"...That's a good point. But are you truly fine with that? I did kill a couple of people and stole a lot more." He was still apprehensive on the human to tag along with him.

"I'm not a saint either, pal. Had to do a lot of crap as well." He waved the thought away, not really caring at all. "Name's Six, you?" He offered his hand for the guy to stand up. The stranger looked at his hand before looking at him and grabbing it.

"Obsidian." He replied as he gave Six back his canteen. "What kind of person names himself as a number?"

"What kind of person names himself as a mineral?" He retorted back to which Obsidian wanted to reply back, but closed his mouth as he couldn't argue back. "_Touche."_

They resumed their momentum, each step stamping on the beaten path. They were silent, with Six just a step behind leaving Obsidian to lead him towards the Kuchinashi, since he knew the way better than him. It was great that he had his helmet on, because his expression would be a dead giveaway that he was both annoyed and worried.

"_So if there's no satellite around here then I can safely, or perilously, assume that where I am is nowhere in the world that I know. Those tin cans better saved the frequency or any kind of data of that portal gun, otherwise I'm stuck here for good-... Shit, that's right, the gun broke right after I used it, so there's really no coming back to the Mojave. And it's not like my previous companions would attempt to bring me back, or would they? Boone didn't want me to leave, even with that salute of his, and Veronica said that she'd put a mean right hook on however wanted to go against me, no idea on why she said that. I don't know much about the others, except Cass, she'd probably take a step back and not use her shotgun right off the bat. Damn it, why did I thought the Think Tank was a good alternative?"_ He self reprimanded to himself silently since it was truly a foolish thing to do.

He took a look on his Pip-Boy, on his compass to see that they were heading north-northeast, when two red dots made him increase the pass and tapped on his guide's shoulder.

"Stop, stop. Get low and slowly make your way to the large tree on our right." He ordered in a hushed tone while crouching down, the man looked at him puzzled but did the same and quietly they made to the treeline and stood still as Six continued to take a look on the compass.

"Why did we come here-" He spoke quietly before two Ursai lazily trudge onto the dirt path from the forest on the other side of the road. "How did you..." He asked surprised to see that the doctor was able to sense the two creatures of darkness, but Six pointed to his device on his arm to which made the shrouded person think that it might have a enemy detection program installed, very high tech for a normal doctor to have, but nonetheless very useful.

"How good are you with your aim?" Six asked to which the man took out his pistol that slowly transformed to a short rifle. This caught the Courier off guard as he wasn't expecting that, the man then pointed at the Ursai and was about to shoot, but Six put his left arm in front of his line of sight. "Not yet. If you shoot now we'll lose the element of surprise." He logically spoke as he took out his .45 Pistol and carefully put the suppressor on while never breaking eyesight of the creatures. _"Hmm... bone armor, regular bullets won't do much... P+ should work."_

He reached into his ammo pouch on the side of the duffel bag and took out a magazine that matched his gun, before switching up the ammo and then steady aiming the creature. "I'll take the right one, you take the left. Make your shot count."

The man nodded before aiming on his iron sights, he steadied his aim and made sure to aim in the middle of the right eye of the beast. Six grabbed a small peddle beside him and gauged the distance of the creatures, before throwing the rock above them and landing in a bush a few ways away from the creatures. The one on the left jerked its head towards the sound and went to investigate it, while the other one just looked at his partner. One suppressed shot and it was down for the count. It passed through the bone plate armor and effectively falling down.

Hearing the sound of it's companion falling down, the remaining Ursai turned around to inspect what just happened, before a gunshot rang and it was killed with a bullet going through the eye and hitting its vital organ, falling down as well. The two men quietly came out of their hiding place and went to inspect the bodies, both of them had made one hell of a shot.

"For a doctor, you have an interesting weapon and a deadly aim." Obsidian commented as he saw Six taking out the suppressor and stashing it before holstering his weapon.

"Interesting weapon? Speak for yourself! I've never saw a pistol transform into a small rifle before. If anything, you're the interesting one." He replied back as he noticed that the beasts bodies were fading away into smoke onto the wind. _"Is that normal?"_ He thought to himself as he only saw laser rifles making a man turn into an ash pile, but not like this case.

"You mean Shadow Loom? I made it to be able to shoot close range and medium range. By shifting the pistol mode to rifle mode, the ammo consumption is higher, but the potency of the gun is higher for those pesky plated bastards." He explained about his weapon as he transformed it back into it's pistol mode.

"Ammunition seems like 10mm caliber, am I right?" He asked as the gunshot sounded like that.

"Those are relatively easy to come by, but no. It's 5.56mm wind dust rounds, always be a solid choice with me." He added while changing the spent ammunition, ignoring the spent cartridges.

_"Dust rounds?"_ The Courier thought to himself as the man turned around to face the path.

Let's go, we're not that far away from the city. Another half an hour of moving and we're there." He informed as he moved first like before with Six slowly catching up to him, but not before catching the spent cartridges to study them and to curiously stare at the creatures. They looked like a bear like the ones in Zion, but very different, not a speck of radiation from them.

* * *

They continued on their stride, with the Courier being the lookout thanks to his Pip-Boy having the enemy detection ability incorporated. Well, it wasn't really an ability, it was just highlighting the enemies that the Six was able to sense. The dense forest was starting to part ways and soon, civilization was a few ways away, 10 minutes at least. The buildings seemed to be standing, though there was a crack here and there. Then the true size of the city of Kuchinashi fell down on the Courier, it was probably the whole of Freeside and the strip at the same time, times 3. It was large, had alleyways, had more people than he has ever seen in one place and more ill intentions than he ever felt in one place. It was perfect.

"Well, we've arrived at the low part of Mistral, the city of thieves, of assassins, of murderess and of cheaters, Kuchinashi. Honestly, it's the last place I wanna be at, but I have heat on me and I'd rather not tangle with the authorities at the moment. What are you gonna do now? You said you were gonna set up shop here, how are you gonna do that?" Obsidian asked as he was counting his Lien for the nearby bar.

_"A plastic card? What does it do-... wait, wait, wait! Don't tell me that THAT is the currency of this place!? God damn it!"_ He cursed in his mind as if that's true, he's penniless in this place. "I'll make do, I've always done so. See you around, fella." He walked towards him with a fist and bumped on his shoulder, before continuing deeper into the city alone. Normally, that was a stupid mistake that could cost you, but he wasn't that preoccupied. He's been through a nest of Deathclaws and only came out limping on one foot, this was going to be easier.

As he walked down the streets, he saw multiple guys staring at him, curiosity grabbed them like a moth to the flame and their greedy fingers twitched at the prospect of nabbing his duffel bag. But with a calm demeanor, he continued walking, albeit with his hand over the holster of his .44 magnum. It was enough to stave off low timers for now.

Looking around, he saw a few active shops, thinking of getting a good deal against the people around here by charging more than usual, and more than likely that they are paying for some hired protection.

_"Good business thinking, poor location for said business if you have to pay every time you want to be protected."_ He thought to himself as he was looking for a decent place to set his shop up. There was ONE place that looked decent enough. Good location and looked like it had enough space to settle down for now. There was a guy nearby just looking at him with sharp eyes. Six decided to approach him.

"Hey, what can you tell me about that place over there?" He pointed towards the building that wasn't the best, due to multiple cracks on the building, not being very appealing with the grey color and the bad reputation that it might have.

"What's in it for me?" The guy asked with a grunt in his voice. He was young, probably 18 at most. His clothes were tattered with multiple patch jobs on it, from repeated use and probably from the time that he's been in the city. Indices of being malnourished and a pair of brass knuckles suggested that he'd rather go messy against someone and the white bandage on his face suggested that he's used to fighting.

"Mmm..." He hummed to himself as he took out a Legion Denarius from a pouch on the side of his duffel bag, he made a huge collection out of it, both Denarius and Aureus to the tens of thousands, with all the legionaries that he killed. Didn't weight much if anything at all for him. In the Mojave Wasteland it was practically useless, but maybe a silver coin might be different here. "This worth anything?" He flipped the coin towards the guy, landing on his palm and looking at it. He was rather surprised to see a coin like this, he gave a glance to Six before pocketing his gain.

"Used to be the place of a trader, now dead for not paying up. The new owner is a prick, but has ties with a local gang that likes to give newcomers like you a rough time. He sells some useless stuff, just to cover the fact that he's part of them." The kid explained to him, which made Six smirk a bit under his helmet. He took one more Denarius and flipped to him again, he was confused but he was quick on the upbeat, he wanted more info.

"Any doctors around?"

"We do have a doctor that patches us up, though there's other kind of doctors that help, for the right price. Our common doc, Aaron Monarch patches us up, but not always. Mainly because he's always losing medical supplies, because, you know, this city is chalk full of unsavory people."

One more Legion Denarius, this was giving the kid a bit of a smirk. He could really get used to this treatment as an information dealer.

"Names. The gang and the owner." Now that was dangerous territory for even the guy. Sure he knew the names, but he isn't thinking of doing something about it, right?

"...The owners name is Topaz Lockhard, the gang is the Roughers, stupid name, but I'm not complaining." He spoke up, hoping that it was the end, but the kid in front of him hadn't left yet.

"The Roughers? What kind of name is that? Are they compensating or something?" He gave a small snicker at the name, the kid looked like he wanted to as well. "If there's one thing I know about gangs, is that you gotta show respect, even with a shitty name as that." This time, he took out an Aureus and placed it on the kids hand. His eyes seemed to bulge at the gold coin.

"I-Is t-this gold?" He asked trying to make sure it's real. It wasn't much, but that's 750 lien at the very least.

"Take this as sign of respect to you, kid. And to keep your mouth shut about me asking questions or if you ever saw me." He told him as the kid vigorously nodded his head before bolting away with what could give him at the very least 3 months worth of food, maybe even more. Six then turned around and stood at the front of the shop.

He opened the door and walked inside to see a rather spacious shop with odds and ends here and there. Mostly of junk that people throw away, though for the Courier, this junk could be salvaged, in more ways than one. He approached the counter and took a look at the man that owned this store. Orange short hair styled in a small pony-tail, eyes that matched his hair and a long nose that looked like it could stab a person. Fair build, with a gun under the counter as he guessed.

"Can I help you, sir?" He asked while putting both hands on the counter, in an act to be professional.

"I need a few directions. Where's the local pawn shop? I tried asking around, but people pointed me here." He lied, just to avert any indication that he wasn't lost.

"Ah, if you're looking for one, then it's a few steps south. There's a big board saying Pawn Shop with a four-leaf clover to the side, can't miss it." He informed with a fake smile.

"Alright, thanks for that. What do you sell here?"

"All kinds of stuff. If it's something I like then I take it, if I don't care about it anymore then I sell it. It goes from junk to something that might be useful to someone else."

"One more question. Where's a weapon shop?" He asked while the owner raised an eyebrow at his question. From the rifle on his back and the revolver on his side, he looked pretty set in protection.

"Umm, can I ask you as to why you would want to know?" He slowly put his hand behind the counter, touching his shotgun and putting the finger on the trigger.

"I'm a gun nut. A firearm, a sword, a weapon modification or materials and ammunition for weapons. I enjoy tinkering with them to see how much I can change it for the better." Half truths. He wasn't a gun nut, but he was fond of finding new weapons.

"Ah, so you're one of those guys. Unfortunately, this city doesn't sell guns for obvious reasons. It's a city of thieves! Giving them a gun is like saying 'here, now go kill someone that you don't like'." He explained as he returned the hand back at the counter. He was lying though, even a city of thieves has an underground operation, and the Courier knew that very well. It would be foolish to believe that no weapons would be sold.

The Courier then cracked his head side to side before taking a more serious tone. "I've heard that you're acquainted with the local gang, the Roughers." This made his hands twitch slightly, promising for Six. "I'll cut to the chase, buddy. I'm new to these parts, but I don't wanna start an open war with the gang, so I came here to give my respects first and foremost to one of the members of that gang."

"...Well, not many would say that. Give respects to a bunch of bullies and nobodies? I'd say you're kinda nice for your own good." The owner spoke, leaving behind any business tone apart, sensing that this was a more serious tone. "To give respect to us, you gotta give something to us. What do you got to offer?"

"I'm here to offer my services to your gang. You see, I'm like a travelling doctor. If any of your boys are roughed up, I can patch them up. If that doesn't suit your fancy, I can also be hired muscle, or even a personal trainer to toughen them up. All I ask in return is just a place to crash, a place where it's out of sight to operate and a place to plant my seeds." He tried to sweeten himself up while putting the terms of his employment for the gang.

"Oh yeah? And how do I know that you can do all that? Frankly, I don't know much about you, not even a name. All I know is that you have a duffel bag filled with some stuff and armed to intimidate a guy."

"Well, I don't have a real name... but call me Courier. Amnesia can make a person forget their name. Been like that for... Seven years now? Bah, doesn't make much of a difference." He took a moment to put his hands in his dusters pockets. "You got that small info now, how about it?"

"I'm still not convinced. How do I know I'm not being tricked with your abilities and how much profit am I gonna get from you?" Of course, a partnership means that both need to get something out of it. This is something that the Courier has had much experience in the field.

"If we're talking about how much we both can gain then I got you covered. I heard from place to place that this town has a doctor, though just one ain't enough for your gang to be treated, and I'm gonna guess that the two of you aren't seeing eye to eye. Having a personal doctor would fix that problem, and if that personal doctor operated on other people, then those very same people would pay for the treatment, making that way that I get a share of 30% and you get a 70%, since you'll be giving me a place for me to act on my own accord and a place for me to sleep, not to mention a place where I can do my work for the gang and if they can't pay... well, we can always cash for them a favor."

"...That IS a sweet deal. Considering that I would have to find you places for you to stay... Well, I could lend you a room of my store to let you operate, it could rack in the customers. For a place to stay... Hmm... I do have a place in mind, it's not abandoned, but the owner tends to avoid coming in this city for... reasons I wouldn't want to disclose. You can set yourself there just fine there. Question is, what are you planning to make there?"

"Lots of stuff, also learning lots of stuff. That's all I'm gonna say, but if I'm gonna be honest, I'm mostly trying to make it more 'homely'." He just has to see the location of the place and make himself at home. Abandoned or not, he was claiming it. "Just need to know where it's at and when I can start my work."

"Turn the corner to the right of my shop and head all the way down the street. There's a rusty red gate that you can't miss, pass the gate and it's there. Work can start tomorrow, or when I call you for an emergency on your scroll." He informed as he still kept the serious tone.

"Uh about... Don't have that anymore. Lost it when I was running away from two groups of Ursai, I was just lucky to be smarter than them." A lie, but from he heard until today, he could formulate a good enough story.

"No Scroll, huh. Guess you're in luck that the pawn shop sells those off. Don't ask where the owner gets them, for all I know he knows a guy that knows a guy." That's the right decision. Don't ask too many questions and you're just fine.

"Aigh't. I'll see you tomorrow, partner. The pawn shop was my next stop." He turned around as his duster flapped from side to side.

"I'll tell the gang members that you're off limits for now. Having a doctor will make them behave a bit more towards you. Can't guarantee with the Griff's though."

"See you." He lifted his right arm up in a wave and got out of the door. "The Griff's huh, guess that's a rival gang. This is getting more interesting by the moment." He followed the directions that he got towards the pawn shop, couldn't really miss it with the big clover like he was told. Just outside was enough to give an eerie vibe and inside was just plain ol' shady to say the least.

It was a small shop, at least from ones perception if they first entered, but if they took a moment, it was rather big. The building had rows and rows of intricate stuff, from technology to more vintage items. Some were hanging, others were in displayed in the sides of shelves. An odds and ends shop, if anything really.

Six took his time looking around it, finding the stuff more interesting than the things Topaz had. While he could most likely recycle his stuff, the stuff here just held much more attention, mainly towards the different things that the courier could think that he could make out them.

After browsing the goods, he pried his eyes away and approached the clerk, he wore and assortment of colors, though the main colors that grabbed his attention was a dark purple on his robe, with different jewelry that he wore on his wrists and neck. His face was covered with a mask, most likely an extension from his robe.

"Greetings, traveler. I'm pleased to see a new face in this backwards town of thieves. Whatever you're looking for, I probably have it, whatever you're selling must bring my attention." His voice was muffled, but from it's tone it was raspy and old. For a pawn shop, the security seems lacking. It seemed the guards are hiding or maybe this man can deal with the problems just fine.

"I'm looking for a scroll."

"A scroll? Oh yes, I have plenty of those. But, it'll cost you a pretty Lien." Technology like that was hard to come by, if you went the regular way.

"Hmm... I don't have Lien on me, but would be interested in bartering?" He asked, to which the mask seemed to twitch in a small smile.

"Oh yes... if you have something of value, I wouldn't mind trading for such a thing. What are you selling?" Six then brought around his duffel bag and looked at his belongings, there was a few things that were of value, but he'd rather not show his hand just yet. He had to go with the Legion coin again for now.

"Found this coins, how much you think these are worth?" He brought on his hand 10 Denarius and 1 Aureus, the look of the pawn shop was suddenly peaked.

"A boy came in hand with those exact same coins not too long ago. I bought them off for a fair price, well... as fair as I'll allow it to be. I don't know if it's counterfeit or not, so I'm going to say that it's enough for that scroll."

_"That's more than I'll ever need for now."_ The courier thought himself with a hidden smirk. "Say, if I ever wanted to buy resources, say, glass or different kinds of metals and wood or even tools for personal use, where do you think I should start?" He asked as he gave the coins back to the man, while he went behind the door as he spoke.

"Hmm... are you perhaps planning a project? Bah, matters not. I know a few acquaintances that have what you might need... I could contact them, but it's gonna cost you, just like how the materials are gonna be expensive as well." He returned with a strange contraption and put it on the counter.

"Hmm, I'll keep that in mind then." He pocketed the gadget and left the shop, as he was leaving he felt at least two pairs of eyes staring at him. Must've been the security guards. "When did they get here?"

Outside, he instinctively wanted to reach for his cigarettes, but stopped himself as he was still wearing the helmet for a reason, to not let people start memorizing his face. If he wanted a smoke, he needed to head towards the place that Topaz, he found the rusty red gate and opened it, only to find a large house. It was overgrown with vegetation and needed work on the outside. Inside was as normal as it could get, in the basement however, he found machinery stripped off of their important components, probably a makeshift factory with just useless garbage.

But what others see garbage, the Courier saw a treasure trove of items for him to use. He had just enough for him to create a makeshift gun station and blacksmith station, chemistry set would need to wait as well as a station to repair and improve his armor. It served for now.

_"Yeah... I can make this work just fine. The basement is large but not to my taste, I would need to expand it a bit for me to put a greenhouse for my seeds, but it should be okay with my stations. I need to also make a reload bench, but that can wait for now."_ He thought to himself as he explored more of the house it was bare, with only a few things like some shelves and a mattress in the upper rooms, it looked like it was used repeatedly from other people crashing there.

"There's a lot of work to do... Still this seems interesting to me at least." He commented as he sat down on the floor with his back on one of the walls. He brought out his new item and looked at it. "How the hell do you even- oh that's how." He clicked a button and it expanded, showing him a lot of information that he couldn't really understand, mainly due that he couldn't read this world's language, yet.

"So this device is like a portable terminal, very interesting..." He started to fumble around the scroll, awestruck at the built in touch screen as he tried to make heads or tails on what everything was meant to do, but his knowledge on the matter was very low for now. He decided to try and turn it off for today. He slowly closed the scroll side to side and returning it to it's previous state. He grabbed a holotape from his duffel bag and put it inside of his Pip-Boy.

"This is Courier Six, audio log day 1. I'm making these in order to keep myself updated in case I need a reminder of what happened. This morning happened to be moment the NCR tried storming the Lucky 38 Casino, I escaped according to the plan that I made.

Somehow, the portal gun that the Think Tank made put me in a strange place. I should've seen that coming, since they couldn't use live test subjects. From what I've gathered, this world doesn't have a RobCo satellite, my Pip-Boy can't pinpoint my current location in the world, which isn't good. Luckily, I was able to keep myself in a low profile in a town called Kuchinashi, a place where the bad kind come to.

Got myself a home base as quick as I could. There were some materials around that I could recycle and create makeshift stations for my own needs, like gun maintenance or to top up my close range weapons. Will steadily get more resources to create more stations.

From my previous encounter with the individual called Obsidian, I noticed that he didn't know what a stimpak was, another instance was that people didn't seem to react to legion coins, more interested in their value than their origin. Which means I can finally use these currency to gain Lien, a plastic card that's the current money around the place.

Will increase the space in the basement when I have the chance. I'm thinking of creating a greenhouse there in order to cultivate my seeds of the wasteland, that way I can create a steady supply of medicine, possibly some drugs as well if I feel like it.

Was able to buy a high tech portable terminal with my legion coins. So far, the written language is vastly different from English, but the odd thing is that everyone speaks English. Need to learn it well if I want to blend in.

Joined a gang for safety's sake, this place is unknown to me so joining the group was a smart idea, my medical equipment is going to shit starting tomorrow though. Hopefully I can recycle what I can, otherwise people will see that my supplies are extremely limited. Don't have blood bags with either, so if they come in with a body drenched with their own blood, the best I can do is inject a stimpak or a super one if it's too serious to avoid. I wish I wouldn't have to, but a deal is a deal.

There's another reason why I joined the gang, they are on the low side of the food chain, so if I can climb the ranks and meet the boss, I can probably get in their good graces and become either the right or left arm of the boss. That way I can make the gang become a force to be reckon with, starting by eliminating those Griff's that are their competition. They'd become the top dogs of the place, and they'd get the same respects as the King's would get. I'm still planning what to do afterwards, but so far that's as far as I thought ahead.

If I play my cards right and some luck is on my side, then I can make the best out of this situation. This is Courier Six, signing off for today."


	3. Preparation for Change

Author: I really should've put a poll instead of reviews to tell me which Courier would've been better. Too late now. As agreed, I've changed the previous chapter for the older version.

* * *

Kingdom of Mistral, Kuchinashi - 1 month later

"This is Six, audio log number 3, 7 in the morning according to this Scroll. My last audio was around a couple of weeks ago, mostly about me ranting on the bastards in the gang, so might as well consider this one as an update from my first audio log.

What to say, what to say first... How about the discovery of having running water through the pipes? CLEAN water. Having purified water at all times is an absolute blessing in the Mojave, with the changes that I did everyone could get a couple of bottles of water, not enough for a bath but good enough for the family to survive. Speaking of bath... I've been keeping my promise to my brain and started having regular showers, at first I started with just a towel and dipping on it before wiping myself to save water. I think I started to have a real shower two weeks ago, it felt nice though it was only cold showers, the boiler was busted. Need to fix it, but it's not on the top of my list for now.

Lately, I've been fumbling around with the aforementioned Scroll. It's... quite interesting. It seems to be connected to a network like my Pip-Boy was, but it has more uses for gathering information and such. I've been using the voice mode to search for stuff, mainly the alphabet of this world. I'm steadily learning it, right now I'm at a fifth grade level, using my free time to put down notes for me to remember. I've prodded around with other information as well, mainly about the second race that this world has apart from humans.

They are called Faunus, a group of people with animal accessories, or maybe it was a mutation, heck if I know. They are constantly getting racism from people or simply not being treated the same way as others, basically they are below in human standards. Which is kinda stupid to me, so far they've been protesting without resorting to violence. Reminds me of Jacobstown, they rather not resort to violence, even though they had the weaponry to push people back.

Anyways, their voices are going to deaf people, because they don't wanna give the same rights to them. I don't know what beef they have, but their making a bubble grow, and it will burst someday.

Made a few visits to the pawn shop owner, guess who's making a killing with Legion coin now? Never, EVER, I saw Legion coin being sought out like that guy. Granted, he actually wants the precious metal of silver and gold, which I'm fine with that. If it means I can get myself 500 Lien every pouch of Denarius and 1250 Lien for a small handful of Aureus. Though, I ain't dumb enough to sell these things like an idiot. I'm only doing it when I REALLY need money, it would be easy to get the materials that I need if I bartered with him, but that's just digging my grave if people start suspecting that I have more of these coins.

A shame really, finally I found a way to sell these coins and now I gotta hold on to them for my own safety. Ain't that a kick, huh?

Speaking of materials, I've been skulking around the town, getting my bearings around the place. I've purchased another duffel bag, while leaving my real one hidden in a hole that I made in the basement, it's practically invisible so I'm not too worried about being found, also found the key of the house in the garden, or what could've been considered a garden at one point with all the weeds, so locking the place up is a go, unless someone tries to pick the lock. Might wanna consider a better lock.

Back on track, people throw away junk that they don't need anymore, and I'm the kind of guy that grabs that junk and makes something useful out of it. There's been also some important parts that I needed to make my workstations, so I stole some unused pipes around the place, took some things that can be easily lost, maybe took a gander at the rival gang called the Griff's, which is eerily close to the Van Graff's name, except they don't use energy weapons, just the standard thug guns. I stole one of them when they weren't paying attention for me to look at, you'd be surprised on how careless that they can be. Maybe it was a new recruit or maybe I got lucky.

The gun was weird to be honest. It could switch modes by the press of a button, from a combat knife to what could be considered a slick 10mm gun. The ammunition was weird as well. Instead of traditional gunpowder, they use this colored powder, amply known as dust rounds which have different proprieties from their colors. The ones that the gun had made the impact zone freeze up with ice, a cryogenic round of sorts.

I tried testing the round in one of the guns in my arsenal, transforming the bullet casing to a .44 round with my newly made reload bench that I made. When I fired, the bullet hit, but the kick wasn't the same as before, it was much weaker. Enough to hurt but not enough to give an exit wound, which means the acceleration of the round was reduced in order to apply the effect. I tried another test, this time mixing with my own gunpowder from another bullet, the effect wasn't really what I expected. The kick still wasn't the same, but it held more power than before, so success on that part, the other part? The effect was greatly reduced. Before it had made my makeshift target freeze up all over, now it was more centralized, meaning that the cryogenic effect was reduced to a smaller zone, maybe enough for a fist.

So I have to find the right ratio to make this new kind of bullet, my setback? I have less of these dust rounds than I'd like to. The guy must've wasted some because I have around 4 more dust rounds to play with. My gunpowder ammunition is stronger, but the effects of freezing my opponent in place is also a good play, if it means capturing them for questioning, or freezing them to death or by suffocation. Tests can be resumed when I get more rounds to play with.

I'm starting to lack medical supplies, which is concerning me greatly. The amount of patients in the city is larger than I originally though. Since Topaz started giving people a heads up that a doctor is now working in his shop, I've been getting around 20 patients everyday. From people that were sick from a regular disease to gunshot or stab wounds.

I seriously need to create that greenhouse very soon, otherwise I won't have enough stimpaks for my own use, or for me to create super stimpaks. Those are the ones that make a difference in the life or death situations, since they make the body increase the healing factor. My morphine is getting low, I might need to resort to buying that chemist set earlier than expected. I can sterilize my medical equipment with boiling the water, so that's good. Though people might get attracted to the smoke of my fireplace on the yard. Damn it, if only I had spare alcohol, but buying vodka in this town is expensive. I might want to get ethanol from one of the pawn shops owners contacts soon. 10 liters of Ethanol should do for a good while.

I think that's it for now. I need to get going to Topaz's store, but not before some breakfast at the local diner. I've become a regular there nowadays, I just love how the coffee and the food there is better than what I had in the Mojave, tastes better. Since the kitchen was ransacked, I've spent my Lien there to eat all my meals. More business to them, I suppose. This is six, signing off."

* * *

Topaz's store - Six's medical bay

Six was doing the usual against the members of the gang, not letting their insults get the best out of him, but it was VERY hard to concentrate on his job when they were talking with him as he was treating two of the gang members wounds, one had a large cut on his forearm, luckily it wasn't deep, so it was an easy enough patch it up with some alcohol to disinfect the wound and then just wrap a bandage on him.

The other one however was in a much dire situation. Multiple cuts, and a gunshot wound on his shoulder. For him to have this many wounds he must've had a tussle with another rival gang member. He most likely wouldn't survive the day with that many wounds, and if he did he'd barely had the strength to fight it off.

"Come on, you big pansy! Tough it out. You had worse." The guy that said that towards the wounded guy, was the guy that was annoying the courier to no end. He had a tough guy look with his attire, and was fit enough to just intimidate a guy. He wore a biker leather jacket with ripped blue jeans and a pair of black sneakers. He had a tattoo on his left arm that was like flames running upwards to his shoulder.

"N-not like this, Moss... Those Griff goons got me good- AGH!" He hissed as Six was cleaning the wound and inspecting if the bullet fragmented inside his right shoulder, so far there wasn't nothing, but he didn't want to risk it by being careless. His cuts were treated accordingly to the multiple medical procedures that he's done on many and himself.

"Can't you hurry up, you little freak? We have to get going already. Just patch him up and-" He was slammed against the wall hard with a kick to the chest before a hand snaked around his neck and hoisted him up.

"I'm about 2 shots away from sewing your mouth shut and putting a cap on your skull. Because if your small brain can't understand that your buddy over there is in a delicate condition, then you might as well leave this place. And before you start spewing shit all over the place, I don't give a shit what you think! Now if you wanna shut up and be quiet, you can stay, otherwise, I might just kill your friend because you kept distracting me as I slice open a vein by mistake. We clear?" From his tone, Six was not having a good day, at all.

The gang member kept quiet, albeit with a glare on him before pushing the courier off and walking out the door of his medical office with his hands on his pockets, but not before grumbling something about breaking someone's arm.

"H-hey go easy on the guy, he-"

"I'm gonna sew yours up as well, if you keep talking." He threatened him before he could finish his sentence, to which the man closed his mouth shut and let the doctor do his work. As he was giving a one over the gunshot wound, now with silence, he grabbed a forceps and slowly plucked out the pieces of shrapnel embedded on the flesh. He discarded the pieces to a metal tray that he found in the store, it was in his medical office so now it was his. He cleaned the wound, sew it shut, applied a bandage and then did a once over on the rest of the patients body.

"I think I'm done. That took longer than it should've." He commented before taking a stimpak and ejecting it on the man's arm. "That should give you an edge on getting on your feet. I'd advise on not getting into anymore fights, have plenty of rest and eating well. Oh and no booze. I'd give you painkillers, but I'm starting to lack medical supplies."

"No booze and no painkillers, just great..." His patient groaned as he stood up with his help, just like how Doc Mitchel helped the Courier once. "Thanks for patching me up, doc... How much was it again for one of these?"

"We're part of the gang, pal. But if you wanna pay, how about giving a good word to the boss about me." He spoke as he cleaned up his hands that were now bloody, thankfully he was using his wasteland wanderer outfit, but he was still wearing his helmet, that became his trademark symbol, since he always wore it everywhere. His Riot Gear is in his duffel bag, the one that he uses to scavenge the place.

"Hey Courier, how bad was it?" Topaz asked as he knocked on the door to get his attention, but he was already cleaning his medical supplies with his supply of vodka, since he didn't have ethanol nor boiling water in the ready.

"It was bad. Deep cuts on his arms, a stab wound to his left side next to his kidney luckily it missed any vital organs, and then a gunshot wound on his left shoulder. He was bleeding bad, and since I don't have any blood bags on my person, I couldn't give him a refill. Best I could do was patch him up as best as I could, tell him to take it easy and eat well to get back his lost blood cells." He explained as he grabbed a piece of cloth and washed his used up tools. "I doubt that he'd survive at the end of the day."

"You got that right. We're lucky that you're with us to treat up our boys." He said as he looked at the reclining chair that was used for the patients. It amazed him that the doctor was able to scavenge it from the city, when he asked him where he found it, he just shrugged and set it up in the first week.

"I commit to my job, no matter the problem, I'll try to find a way to fix it. But maybe you should talk with that Moss fellow to lay off of me for a while. I'm at my limit with him, up here!" He put his hand above his head. "I'm gonna need him to be around here." He lowered his hand just below his chest.

"I'll talk him up then. Still surprised that you went a full month before complaining about him. He's only been in the gang for a year or so." The shop owner said casually.

"I'm a patient man, but I'll tell you this much. If he pushed just a bit more, you'd lose a gang member." He spoke with a casual tone as well, but it sent a cold chill onto Topaz.

"You wouldn't really do that, right?" He asked just to get confirmation that he was joking.

"I'd be a fool to just off someone like that, what am I? 15?" He responded before cracking his neck. "No, I'd do something else to make sure he'd stop barking at the wrong tree. That's all. Killing is a last resort for me or when I'm having a really bad day." He reassured the shop owner a little, though the last part did put him on edge. "Those Griff's... I've saw them before when I made a few trips around town on a few of my breaks. I know something about them, but not a whole bunch. Care to elaborate me about them?"

"The Griff's and Roughers have been at each others neck for a long time now. Both made themselves known at the same time around 20 years ago, which kick started this power hungry war we've been having, since more territory equals power, and more control over the goods that pass through the town.

We the Roughers are known for our intimidating factor and stealing when we see a target, you can easily know it's us because of our leather bikers outfits. The boss is the toughest son of a gun you'll ever meet, heck he was stabbed 20 times and shot ten more times by the Griff's and came through like nothing.

The Griff's however are more of the killing part of the town. The top dogs wear shrouded gear, meant for assassinations, the ones below are basically wannabe ruffians that are under their banner, stealing from passerby's or our own to offer tribute to the boss of the Griff's. He's a sneaking rat that only a few lucky guys ever saw him, but from what we heard through the rumors, he's NOT normal. Doesn't make a sound or even show his presence to anyone, he's just there before stabbing you in the back and returning to the shadows. A real ghost if anything." Topaz explained to him as Six sat down on a wooden chair that was part of the room.

_"Twenty full years and neither of them backed down yet. Interesting..."_ It was like the Legion and the NCR all over again, but this time it was much more centralized, and there weren't many rules that bound them together. His logical mind started to click together a plan.

"Let's say that the Roughers won, what would happen to the city?" He asked to buy time a cunning plan to strike both of them at the same time.

"If we won, then the Griff's would just leave the town and we'd be ruling it like the top dogs that we should've been all those years ago. We'd make sure that we'd rack up the Lien and start offing people that we didn't like, while ensnaring the people that we'd like."

"Kinda like me? You think you've ensnared me?" He hummed in humor to the man, which unnerved him.

"Maybe I didn't said the right words... What I meant was that the people that would benefit us, would be close to us! The rest would just have a hard time, that's all."

"By rest, you mean the citizens that are laying low here, and hard time means that if they don't cough up some Lien then you'd beat the living out of them, either until they cough up or they die."

"We wouldn't go so far as to kill someone like the civilians, we'd do it against the Griff's if they ever come up." He tried to act defensively on that train of thought, which wasn't lost to the Courier.

"Sounds like someone doesn't really know what the members of the Roughers really do to people that they don't like. To illuminate you, when there's a guy that they REALLY don't like, they don't care if they're a Griff or not, they'll kill them without a second though. I've saw it before happen." He technically wasn't lying, the guy was basically beaten to a sliver of their life.

"Wait, what? That doesn't sound the Roughers that I know... They wouldn't go that far."

"Partner, out of all of my customers, how many were here because they were beat up by someone? I know you look at them, they have to pass by you to reach me. Or are you trying to feign ignorance right now?"

"...Are you telling me that the Roughers did those attacks? All of them?" His tone reeked of disbelief, so he wasn't on par with the recent happenings.

"Not all of them, but a good part were their doing. You see, the Roughers use these brass knuckles with a symbol of a diamond in the middle." He pointed to the pair sitting on his desk, forgotten by one of the thugs that he just healed up. "I'm a very perceptive guy, and each wound had that mark imprinted. It was faint, but it was definitely there. Question is... why were you not informed of this?" He asked as he was close to Topaz.

"..."

"I know why, it's the same reason why the thugs don't tell you these things. Quite easily." He spoke up before turning away to head to his Riot Gear and bringing out his .45, took out his magazine and threw his gun to Topaz, he fumbled a bit before he grabbed the gun awkwardly.

"It's because you don't have the same beliefs as your gang, don't you. Or maybe the beliefs that you had back then were abandoned and you're the only one left that still upholds them. Even holding onto a gun without bullets you were caught off guard. Correct me if I'm wrong, but it seems to me you guys started rather peaceful. When shit hit the fan when the years started catching up and interactions with the Griff's got out of hand for you lot, so the boss grabbed the toughest guys and started taking things into their hands."

As he finished talking, the shop owner looked down at the gun. It seemed heavy in his hands, despite being rather light. It was rather hard to believe that his gang would change their beliefs, no, his beliefs of the future of the gang.

"We would just keep doing what we were doing before. Just stealing and getting Lien always from high targets, and just spend the cash in drinks and food, it was a simple plan and everyone in the gang would be happy. We basically would get free food from strangers, what's so wrong with that line of thinking?" He asked as he put a hand on his head to rest and the other let the gun fall down on the floor.

"Nothing wrong with that line of thinking, but that's too shallow." Six spoke as he grabbed his gun from the floor and gave a small swipe to the side before returning it to his duster. "Your boss wants to get things down the violent path, using intimidation and violence to rack in the dough and being very greedy. But if you're too greedy, you're bound to fall down faster than a speeding bullet. That wouldn't be the way I'd do things."

"And what would you do? What would a medic do in this case?" He was a bit skeptical to him speaking like he knew a thing about taking care of things.

"Well, I'd first like to hear both sides before coming to a conclusion. I'm a guy that listens first before deciding, otherwise, it's a bullet to both sides. Take out the big bosses then nominate the new bosses. The cycle would continue, though a bit weaker then before. That's option A.

Option B would be trying to negotiate a cease fire, having half of the town to them and the other half to the others. At least the guys wouldn't discuss things about territory because it was already establish.

Or option C, which is the most beneficial to them and for the town."

"What's option C?" The previous options looked like the thing that would actually happen, so this option would be the one that the store owner didn't expect.

"Unite both gangs into a solid foundation. Make both the Roughers and the Griff's turned into a single gang, owning the streets as they both wanted, but without a guy to tell them what to do. No, that would never work, there would be revolts because of the supremacy of power.. What they would need is a group of them to decide what the next course of action to take, it would be by votes and whatever got more votes the gang would do so. Course, the guys that are against would be able to speak up and the guy with the most influence would give advice as well.

To me, option C would be for the good of all. As there would be less disputes between the gangs, there would be in fights yes, but that's why we gotta discipline them. I'm also thinking that maybe we could use the gang to fight off the motherfucking Grimm outside for protection, because I've had to deal with two stray bastards during my month here."

"That... might actually be for the best. Or do you have one last option, doc?" He asked though what came out of his lips made Topaz froze on the spot.

"Just one. Eliminate ALL of them. One bullet at a time." He said it quite normal to him, like it was almost second nature. The cold stare that was thrown at him and the way he cradled his gun was enough to know that he was serious. "It's possible, albeit time consuming. Still, some planning would be needed for striking key points and kill certain targets of interest. But I've already threw it out the window, because it doesn't benefit me at all killing both gangs and because my resources are already sparse."

"Please don't say those things. For a moment I thought that you were really going to do it." He nervously responded to him, while the good doctor was putting the tools onto the tray(clean) that he always used for such operations, in orderly fashion.

"This gang war and the gangs themselves aren't doing the city much favor. Sure, we're racking in Lien and favors, but if you keep this up, the people will most certainly give you guys a piece of their mind, with a gun or a weapon in hand. After all, this is the city where the people are the lowest, murder isn't out the table for them and thieves will most likely try to steal from your supply caches. When that happens, I won't be of much help for you guys, because I'm basically cut off from resources as well."

"You'd abandon us? That's harsh, even for you." He sounded hurt, but it was nothing more than a farce.

"I've only been in your gang for a month, and I don't see much point on staying close to you guys if shit hits the fan. I'd rather keep having resources, than to cut my already limited supply even shorter. You know, it's just business." He casually said before sitting on his chair, awaiting for another patient. "If you're done talking, then you'd better head back on the counter, my medical bay is still open."

Topaz grumbled, but nevertheless retreated back to his shop, having more than a few things to think about. About the gang, about the things that they've done so far and about how much the Courier was able to figure out in no more than a month what he needed a few years to see. A perceptive guy indeed, and his resourcefulness is something to not scoff at.

* * *

Topaz's store - 18:30

"Hey, it's closing time." Topaz warned as the Courier was already packing up for the day.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm basically done here." He replied before putting his duffel bag on his back and moved slowly to the doorway. "Here's your cut of the deal." He handed him 550 Lien while he kept 250 for himself.

"A little light today, don't you think?" Topaz asked as the money didn't seem to correspond to the amount that he got.

"You're really gonna dis me for taking 10 Lien extra? I gotta buy new supplies or do you want this medic to stop healing because a lack of supplies?" He asked with some irritation on his side, before moving past him. "Plus, it's my food expenses. I'm heading to my favorite diner, see you tomorrow." He waved a lazy goodbye as he left the shop, stretching his strengthened back hearing a crack from it, which was odd to him. "That better not made an internal cut." Referring to the metal bits that were on his spine.

His feet automatically moved towards the predesignated track towards his favorite place to eat, mainly because he'd rather waste his money for already made food than buying the ingredients to a home without a kitchen. He really needs to either make the kitchen or buy the god damn pieces.

As he was walking, he felt like three pairs of eyes were looking at him and from the footsteps meant that he was being followed by some unsavory people.

"Just my luck... and I wanted a peaceful dinner before heading back home to catch up with my studies." He thought in his head, sighing in the process. He made a turn in the next corner and went through an alleyway, leading his pursuers towards this restricted place. Thankfully some smoke from a nearby ventilation cloaked him, seizing the opportunity to hide near a dumpster quietly.

The three individuals walked with stride through the smoke inspecting the place to find their target. They followed him for quite a bit and studied his actions carefully, since he was the new doctor of the place they wanted to seek him out. However, they didn't seem to find him right away which was annoying the leader.

"Marengo, Khaki. Search the place up, he couldn't have gotten far." The leader ordered behind them. The two goons were dressed in the same matter as Obsidian, except they wore their masks, except they had their arms visible. The leader was closer, except his mask had more ornaments and the weapon that he used was more of a tool than a weapon. A sickle, though it seemed that there were veins pulsating on the hilt.

They slowly walked around and inspected the place. Nothing new on the alleyway, apart from more garbage than before and a few extra cracks on the buildings. They were surprised that their target seemingly vanished.

"Cooper, he's gone!" Marengo spoke up in disbelief.

"What do you mean, he's gone? He couldn't have disappeared out of nowhere! Khaki, you found anything?" He asked by he didn't get a reply. "Khaki? Yo I'm talking to you, idiot!" He walked towards the man that somehow was lying down. "Khaki!? What the hell!" He immediately went ahead to remove the guys mask to see him out cold. He pressed his ear on his chest and heard his heart still beating. "Shit... when the hell did that bastard have the time to get Khaki? Marengo, come over-"

But his ordered was cut short as he saw his goon was being strangled with one arm while the other arm was aiming a .44 revolver at him. Khaki's weapon had been thrown away and by how tight the Couriers grip was on his throat, he was being kept quite tame. Cooper was taken aback at how this guy was able to turn the tables on his side.

"Evening. Now what could you three be doing following me? Trying to mug me? Maybe trying to kill me right here and now? Or is it something else?" He asked as he cocked the gun. His eyes glowed red as he looked at the leader of this merry band, making him more intimidating then what he was before. "You better explain things _very_ well, partner. I'm not in the mood today."

"Okay, okay... easy there... We didn't mean to alarm you, sir-"

"I'm giving you three to spill the beans, before I splat your friends head off." He pointed the barrel of the gun to his captives head forcefully, making Khaki's head tilt to the side. "1."

"Woah, woah! You don't need to do that! We were sent here to talk with you. We're the Griff's, heard of us?"

"Tell me something that I don't know. 2." The Courier could feel his sleeve becoming damp by the tears that were falling through the mask of his captive, he tried to reach out to his friend by using his strained voice, except only a grumble came out.

"The big guy wanted to talk with you." He calmly spoke, much like an assassin would do with his target.

"The leader of the Griff's? That's odd. I don't remember painting myself that fancy to be noticed. What does he want." He stopped counting, which relieved his captor.

"We don't know. We were just ordered to tell you that." After he said that there was a tense moment between the two before he released his captor and pushed him towards their supposed leader.

"I'm guessing that he didn't told you where he could talk with me and I'd rather not be in the lion's den. Tell him to meet me at Garnet's Diner. We'll talk there. He has an hour to meet me there." He informed before putting his gun away. "You got lucky, remember that." He pointed to them with an aloof finger, then passed through the smoke backwards, still his red eyes looking at him, and then he disappeared, his presence gone.

"T-that guy is no doctor..." Marengo choked out, taking in deep breaths.

"No. He's more of a killer than anything." The killing intent he felt from the Courier was of such magnitude that he didn't dare to move. Those red glowing eyes, the way he gripped at Marengo, the nerves of steel that he had towards the situation and how he was able to jump them quicker than anything they've seen before. More than a killer, and more than a doctor. It was the perfect art of assassination if Cooper made a wrong turn.

"I-I'll go get Khaki and bring him back to the nearest hideout. I think you should hurry and warn the boss." Marengo caught up with his breath and moved to the unconscious body of their teammate. With a nod, Cooper ran up on the rooftops of the buildings and moved as quickly as he could.

* * *

Garnet's Diner

Strange on how the city of thieves had a Diner, but it wasn't unwelcome to it. Thieves and murderers need sustenance, and where do you go to spend the easy gotten Lien? Well, it has to be on a small restaurant. Inside the building, the decoration was easy on the eye. Not too much and not too little. Nothing valuable was on the walls, the seats were clean and the temperature was at a comfortable zone.

The floor was marble white, the couches were a soothing red and the light coming from the light bulbs had a faint red tint to it. Behind the counter there was always two staff members, the cook Gilroy that rarely speaks a word and when he does it's only simple words, and the owner of the establishment, the ever smiling and ever optimistic Garnet.

The diner always had customers, mainly because the food was decently priced and with the added bonus of actually being good. A good business in the bad side of town, though the town itself was bad already.

Passing through the door, the bell above rang signifying another customer appeared, catching the owners attention. She was delighted to meet the man that has yet to miss a day from her diner.

"Well if it isn't the Courier! Back again for one of Garnet's meals I see." She stated with a cheeky grin. Garnet herself was an interesting woman, she had a great body, usually wearing sleek clothes to accentuate her form. Though what caught most of the attention was her hairstyle, as it was a red afro. Strange but oddly inviting.

"What can I say, you have some good food. Is my table available?" He asked with a kind tone. As a regular there, he has scored some points in her book and had now a table for him.

"Sure is! What would you like today?" She asked as he moved slowly to his seat.

"I've had my eye on the Little Frenchie for a while now. How long do you think it'll take?" He sat down while resting his head on his hand on the table.

"That'll take 30 minutes or so, hun. You think you can wait it out?"

"For your food? I'll wait till the night sky comes around and the sunshine rises." He replied with a flirty tone to her.

"Oh my. Easy there sugar, I might fall for you." She replied back with the same flirt. It was all in good fun because this was how they talked. Just a joke to spice up the evening.

As he waited, he pulled out his scroll and started examining the properties of the thing. He had been using it the whole month that he bought it, recharging it when he could and putting down notes. He had a few ideas on what he could do with it. He looked at his Pip-Boy, while it's use was to monitor his condition and his current supplies, the map function had been non existent at this point.

_"Maybe I could somehow combine the two? It'd be hard and i'd need a new casing for it... Maybe this should be a project to reconsider. Instead of being big and clunky, maybe small and compact would be much more useful. Able to connect to radio stations, have the map function back maybe and all of that while being easier to use. I do have the tools back home and the know how of my Pip-Boy. All I have to do is break apart the scroll, combine the both to be more slick, reprogram it, upgrade it and it'll be a new technology made by yours truly. I'd be the jealously of the Think Tank and any pre-war scientist."_ He thought to himself as he mulled over the wonders that he'd create. Something that not even Father Elizah would thought doing, or maybe he would if he was still alive, which was very unlikely. Being trapped in a safe with nothing but a terminal, and some small air reserves would kill someone rather slowly, days at best. Didn't stop the Courier to take the gold ingots that weighted a ton, still worth it for emergency caps.

"Maybe for when I got more resources..." He mumbled to himself as he kept a steady eye on his scroll and tapping on the news video for today.

"Those are easy to come by, if you got the Lien for them." A familiar voice spoke up, which Six slowly looked up to see Obsidian looking back at him, mask on his shrouded face and gun most likely on his hip, though he could also have it under the table pointing at him.

"Well... Ain't that a surprise. So the guy that I helped was actually the big guy of the Griff's. Can't say that this isn't the first time this has ever happened." He casually spoke as he closed his scroll and pocketed it on his duster. "So... What does the 'Ghost', want to talk with me? Can't be because you wanted to thank me for back then."

"You're working for the Roughers." He stated to him with a neutral tone. "Do you realize on how much of a target you just painted yourself on my group? Or how many people you've hurt with your sudden business with them?"

"Business is business, Obsidian. I'm just doing what any doctor would. Patch up the folk and do whatever you can so that they won't die. This isn't my first rodeo with people that want to take my head. Not to mention that the Roughers were kind enough to give me a place for me to stay, after some persuasion." He replied back while speaking rather casual for a person that might be at gun point.

"Six, your name has come around on our contracts list. At least ten times in the last month. So far, my group has been listening to me, but the bounty on your head is starting to become apparent that it's going to cash them a big one. I'm down for taking a big target, but a medic that patched me up out of their kind heart? I'm with doubts on that regard."

"I'm touched, bud. There's only a handful of guys that I know, that had the same line of thought of you. Someone helped you and now you're conflicted on what to do, since they've become a target that you can cash." Garnet came around and put a glass of water in between them, to somehow break a bit the tension that was rising before leaving. "So, how are we gonna do this?"

"I don't know. Honestly speaking, you didn't do anything wrong, not giving me a reason to actually go after you with my group. The guys that wanted to kill you are mainly the guys that want to get your medical supplies and that house of yours. If only you were on our side instead of theirs." He spoke with some regret in his words.

"Heh. You think I'm on the Roughers side?" He asked while chuckling for a bit. "Mate, if there's a side I'm on, it's my side. The Roughers are just for safety reasons so that they won't start shit against me. I'm not surprised that your gang wanted to start with me, what did surprised me was you wanting to talk with me." He slowly started to unhinge the hook on his helmet.

"..." Obsidian was silent as he saw Six take out his helmet for the first time against the prying eyes of others. If he and the Roughers boss were seasonal warriors, then this guy is most likely two steps ahead of anyone else. A veteran doesn't even describe him through his facial features, but it was close enough.

Scars riddled his face, the biggest one crossed between his left eyebrow to his right cheek, a claw mark that deep imprinted on his face, must've hurt like hell. But looking at the other features on his face, didn't do him much favors. Gunshot wounds, stab wounds, burnt marks... It's like he's been to war and back for the past 20 years. Though his hair has grown a bit with the month, his bangs reaching his eyes, the surgical cut on his forehead just shy being covered made Obsidian pause.

"Let's talk business, partner." He reached into his pocket in a rather relaxed manner, despite Obsidian still aiming his gun at him. He saw him take out a rolled up cigarette, put it on his mouth and lightening it up with an intricate lighter. "I'd rather appreciate if you lowered your gun now. This is a dinner, one that I rather enjoy to eat my fill after a days worth of work. We're both civilized people, unless you want to make this ugly."

Maybe it was the way he casually threatened, maybe it was the sight in front of him of a man that has fought countless battles, or maybe it was the look that he was being given.

Obsidian has seen many looks. Terrified ones, angry ones, shocked ones, even accepting ones. The look that Six was giving was by far the most perplexing one he could describe. This man wasn't being threatened, wasn't even scared or angry or shocked or accepting his demise. He was looking him in a serious kind, yet... his senses urged him to lower his fire arm, that whatever aggression he would do against him, the man would've returned tenfold in a minute. He lowered his gun as advised and holstered it.

"That's good. Wouldn't want to step that minefield either. So... if you're okay with talking, how about you and I speak of things that should interest the both of us?"

"...I'm listening."

"You'll find it interesting when I'm done, don't you worry." A small chuckle with a smile that most likely held a plan behind every word. With a card equivelant to 100 Lien, he called Garnet and handed her the money. "Keep the store quiet okay, doll? We're gonna have a very long chat."

"Certainly, tiger." She went off and closed the dinner for the night.


End file.
